


Scenes from a Fortune 500

by nomoretears24



Series: Exploring [2]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Business, Developing Relationship, F/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 109,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomoretears24/pseuds/nomoretears24
Summary: Running on from what happened on the yacht, Waystar Royco is in dire need of saving. With two new heads of the organisation, will it survive?Sequel to 'Exploring'.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Series: Exploring [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991920
Comments: 79
Kudos: 50





	1. Scenes from a week from Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Gerri in italics.  
> Thoughts of Roman in bold.

She has ended up in a discussion with Logan immediately after Kendall’s press conference regarding what she could do in his defence. She has rhymed off all the possible allegations, pulling the recording of the press conference up on her phone, listening to Kendall’s accusations and then pausing it to confirm what possible allegation and defence could be used.

Frank and Karl stroll in not long after, listening in to the end of her determination of potential defences. However, they have all been ignoring the elephant in the room until Shiv pipes up.

“Regardless, this is bad publicity for the company and for you dad. I don’t know how you could come back from this,” she says reticently, watching him carefully.

Finally, Gerri gets a phone call from Karolina.

“I got them. Basically wrestled Greg to the ground for them but I got them though he said he has copies. I’ve not seen Ken yet. I’m going to chase him now,” Karolina pants down the phone.

“Okay. Thanks. Can you send them over?”

“Yeah. Sending pictures over now. Will call you when I know more,” she responds.

“All right,” she hangs up the phone, scrolling through it nervously.

“I’ve got the documents,” she announces to the room, not lifting her head.

“What do they say?” Logan asks.

“Sending them to you all now,” she responds, promptly sending and then scrolling through them.

Whilst they all take a few minutes to analyse the five documents, Gerri explains it to Logan as she takes them in herself.

“So, the documents are financial pay outs more or less. Settlement payments to five of the victims. I’m assuming the ones who filled out an NDA from the amount,” she sums up.

She continues swiping through the documents, as the others remain silent.

“But they are signed off by Weissel, Karl, and then yourself,” she informs, lifting her head to look at Logan as everyone else does also. They all watch as he leans on his hand, rubbing his forehead; Gerri chancing a glance at Karl whose eyes are bulging that he too is now implicated.

“I think that’s it then,” Logan announces, rising to his feet.

Everyone watches him diligently, as he looks around the room; Karl’s fate ignored.

“No going back from this for me, is there?” He looks at Gerri.

She shrugs hesitantly; doesn’t want to be the one to affirm it to him.

Her silence, however, is golden to the entire room.

“All right. We will announce I’m stepping down pending investigation. I don’t want to bring untoward attention to the company with this proxy battle still at large. Want to act with due diligence to the shareholders yada yada yada,” he rhymes off to himself.

She nods, typing furiously on her phone what he is saying.

“I will run things from the background still but we need to focus on getting shareholder confidence back so that Sandy and Stewy don’t take over the company now. So, Gerri,” he looks to her as her head snaps up from her phone.

“You’re the name on the paper and you make the most sense just now. You’re a woman. You’re not a Roy. You know the company inside out. The shareholders will likely take the most confidence in that. You fit the bill,” he informs her.

Her heart is racing as she stares back at him, her eyes moving to the faces around the room; Roman’s eyes kind.

“Okay… thank you,” she answers quietly.

“Congratulations Gerri,” Frank offers first.

“Yeah, well done Gerri,” Shiv voices.

Roman gives her a small smile.

Karl remains silent, not even looking up from the ground.

“So, we will make an announcement. Arrange a board meeting for Gerri to be interim CEO, then hold a press conference when it’s inevitably approved. But as my last act before I step down, Kendall is dismissed with immediate effect. So, if you could find a way for that to happen, Gerri,” Logan states resolutely.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will look into it,” Gerri stammers quietly.

“Okay, well I think we should get out of here ASAP. Frank would you call to arrange to get us the fuck out here tonight,” he orders.

“Yeah, right on it,” Frank offers, pulling his phone out.

“Okay, well I’m going to go deal with the Kendall thing before we leave,” Gerri announces, walking out of the room with Frank; Karl on their heels.

_She was worried about Karl being the other named person as the Chief Financial Officer. He would happily give up all information to save himself. The rest of them might be secure if Karl kept his mouth shut, but when Karl was up against the firing squad, he would give up anyone. She would need to try and figure out something to do with him. A healthy severance package after an internal investigation with an NDA or something. She would have to figure it out because he would be the weak link here._

After Roman watches her leave, he turns back looking between Shiv and his dad.

“I’m sorry dad,” Shiv whispers.

“Yeah. Gerri will do a good job though,” Roman tries to soothe.

“Yeah, she’ll keep things ticking over enough to satisfy the Board and the shareholders,” Logan begins, huffing. “But she’s a suit. She won’t make a lot of changes, not enough to make my return unwelcome when this is all over. She won’t be able to handle it though, especially after having to get together the legal case for me and the company as well. Plus, she won’t be popular amongst employees. Most people don’t like being told what to do from a woman. They come across as a cunt. The media will probably pulverise her.”

Roman and Shiv look at each other with raised eyebrows, aghast at Logan’s harsh predictions.

“So…” Roman awkwardly scoffs, “she’s being set up to fail, so that you look like the good option to come back?”

“It’s just business, Roman. You have a lot to learn,” Logan shakes his head. “Gerri superficially ticks all the boxes, but she’s not up to the job. She’s not a CEO.”

**Roman can feel the anger building up inside him. After all the years Gerri had worked like fuck for the company, sacrificed her own shit, just for this. It was savage. He knew his dad was low, but this was a complete lack of loyalty.**

“I mean, Gerri is smart, dad. I think she would do a good job,” he defends.

“Yeah…” Logan agrees, his voice trailing. “She’s good as a General Counsel. Which is why she had better have something up her sleeve for this case.”

Logan pauses for a moment as Shiv and Roman look at him, too afraid to speak.

“And fucking Kendall? The fucking snake. Where did I go wrong?” Logan shouts angrily, storming out.

“He literally created a clone of himself. How can he be surprised?” Roman murmurs under his breath to Shiv, who gives a pointed look.

*****

He runs down the corridor, watching as she whispers outside her door with Frank.

His stomach drops as he takes in the scene before him, his jog slowing to small steps as he watches their faces close together whispering, her voice more heated though he can’t make anything out.

Eventually Frank spots him, straightening up and looking over her shoulder, as Gerri takes in Frank’s reaction, twisting to look over her shoulder to Roman.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighs, turning back to Frank. “We will continue this later,” she directs to Frank, raising her eyebrows, as Frank takes the hint and walks away.

She opens the door to her cabin, holding it open as he enters, locking it again.

“What was that about?” He asks her.

“Strategy,” she answers firmly, moving across to the safe to get her laptop.

“Am I no longer included in strategy or?” He asks her angrily; his strained eyes, throwing his hands up.

‘Of course, you are, Roman,” she sighs, moving the laptop to her desk and taking a seat.

He stands silently, waiting for her to continue as she opens it, inserting her details.

She notices the silence, looking up to him, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

“Well?” He asks.

“We were discussing what to do about your dad. He wants to control the business with me as the faux head and we were discussing whether that was beneficial for the company,” she divulges, watching his every reaction.

“Okay. Well, I’m in,” he affirms.

“Roman, we don’t even know what the plan is,” she sighs, looking back to her laptop.

“Look Gerri, my dad basically just told me that he’s setting you up, so whatever the fuck it is, I’m in,” he raises his voice resolutely as she looks back up to him.

“What did he say?” She asks him softly.

“That he doesn’t think you’re up to the job. That you will keep things ticking along but not make enough of a difference for them to want you to stay over him coming back when this is all over. That people aren’t going to listen to you because you’re a woman, because people think women in charge are cunts and that’s bull shit, Gerri! I know you have ideas and I know you could do that job better than any of them!” He shouts, his nerves becoming worked up.

“Hey, hey, shhh. It’s okay,” she says standing up and grasping his face in her hands.

_She doesn’t want him to start losing his rag, drawing attention to her cabin. This needs kept under wraps._

“Thank you for coming and telling me. That can’t have been an easy choice to make,” she smiles at him, her voice lulling him.

“It was easy,” he affirms seriously, bringing his hands up to her waist.

She smiles, offering a sweet brief kiss before turning back around and sitting in her chair to face her laptop.

“You do have ideas, don’t you?”

“Of course, I have ideas! I’ve been trying to pitch them for years. I spent such a long time on them. They were modelled and thought through, but I had always been waiting for the moment to pitch them to your dad because I didn’t think he would really go for them. And then remember when Ken tried to take over after your dad’s heart attack? I thought that was my moment after he invited people to give him ideas. But I tried to pitch it to him and he completely dismissed me; he said he didn’t want old ideas and after that whole lifeboat shpeal as well,” she rolls her eyes.

“What a dick,” Roman comments.

“Yeah,” she whispers distracted as she moves through folders, pulling up random files.

She looks around to him briefly, watches as he stands quietly, looking absently at her couch.

“You okay? With the whole Ken thing? I know it must have been hard for you to watch,” she queries, giving him her full attention.

“Yeah. I’m so shocked he did it, you know? Don’t blame him but just never thought he would sever the ties so severely. You would have thought I would be less shocked since this was like the third time but there can’t be any going back from this one, right?”

“I don’t think so, Rome,” she offers a sad smile, turning back to her computer

 **How was Gerri so perfect? Taking time to ask if he was okay. Just sitting there now, doing shit on her laptop**.

He comes up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her neck.

“Roman,” she warns, pulling away and looking at him over her shoulder. “I need to get this done. I don’t have a lot of time. There is a shit load to do.”

“I know. Don’t know the next time I will be able to do this though,” he smiles, leaning down to peck her lips.

“About that…” she begins awkwardly.

“Oh shit,” he turns around panicking, not wanting to look at her.

**It’s going to be bad. It has to be bad when it starts like that. Something in him told him that she would back off at the first opportunity. This was it. Fuck.**

“We’re solid, aren’t we? But you know that I won’t be able to see you for a while outside of work and meetings, right?” She asks him reticently, her voice soft.

**They’re solid? Then why is she backing out now? It was just starting to move forward.**

“Why the fuck not? I thought we were going to try this out?” He fires at her, his mouth hanging open.

She sighs, looking at him directly, “Roman, I’m the CEO and you’re the COO.”

“So?”

“So, there was always going to have to be an element of secrecy because of the notification clause but it’s even more heightened now. We are going to have a magnifying glass over us.”

“Wait, what?” He looks at her confused. “What the fuck is a notification clause?”

She rolls her eyes. _Of course he wouldn’t know. Since when has Roman Roy ever had to read a contract of employment._

“It’s the duty to notify your superior, in our case it was your dad and now it is the Board, when two employees engage in any kind of relations especially when it is with a direct superior.”

“Like a relationship? Sex? Buddies? What?” He rolls his hands in the air with each question.

“Yeah. All of that. And yeah, even though I know you’re being sarcastic, even strong friendships can be deemed worthy of notification to avoid favouritism,” she tells him seriously.

He laughs heartily.

“That’s fucking ridiculous. It’s obvious people will make alliances in our world. In any fucking world! And the rest of it is just bullshit. People are going to meet people in their fucking workplaces when you don’t have anywhere else to fucking go. You met your husband here. This is just some ‘Me Too’ shit.”

“Yeah, but it was put in place for a reason, long before the “Me Too Shit”. CEOs have been dismissed because of it.”

“But this is consensual. I don’t get it,” his face scrunched up.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s consensual. The CEO of McDonalds was fired last year for having a consensual relationship with an employee. Some employees even ended up marrying and they still got dismissed.”

“But why? Why the fuck does it matter to them?”

“It’s deemed poor judgement to the shareholders to engage in it because of the potentially harmful outcomes for the business. McDonalds have a no fraternisation policy though. We only have a notification clause.”

“Okay. So, what happens when you do notify them then?” He asks crossing his arms over.

“Roman,” she warns. “That’s not the plan.”

“I know, I know,” he waves his hand in the air. “But hypothetically.”

“Well, they approve or reject it. Look at all the issues surrounding it in an investigation. See if there is an issue with bias towards the subordinate; consider what could happen if the relationship were to terminate. Also, they would interview the office to consider if there was any disruptive behaviour.”

“I’m disruptive because I’m me. Not because of this,” he declares confidently.

She rolls her eyes in response, staring him out.

“Okay, what is disruptive behaviour?”

“Well… like the CEO from Best Buy. He said he wasn’t even in a relationship with this girl who was much lower down in ranks but was just friends. Then they interviewed the office and it seemed she was getting preferential treatment. Her direct managers were too afraid to challenge her behaviour because she had influence being attached to the him. He was dismissed because he was deemed to have exercised poor judgement, creating an unnecessary distraction and damaging employee morale.”

“That doesn’t even apply to us. Okay some old dude chasing a piece of skirt on a lower level. But I actually think people would dig us being together. Feminism and shit. Older woman bags younger billionaire. They would love it,” he smirks at her.

“Look Rome, we can’t go public with it. The press would have a field day but we need to take lessons from these. The Best Buy guy? They ended up looking through all of their communication. They looked at their phone calls, how often they called, the time of the calls, whether it was during the night, whether it was when he was on holiday, the number of text messages, what was in the text messages, the photos they sent each other. They even said that the texts were intimate because she signed her initials at the end of it.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he holds his hands up. “Are you telling me I can’t call or text you anymore? I’m the COO, Gerri. It’s probably expected that I would need to call you at some point.”

**He feels like the wind is knocked out of him. He isn’t even allowed to communicate with her, never mind see her?**

“No, I’m saying we need to be careful,” she tells him softly. “No inappropriate texts. Phone calls at a reasonable time and length.”

“No dick pics?” His voice going higher.

She smirks, “like you’ve got something to impress me with?”

He laughs, then begins looking around, trying to think of something, anything.

“What if I get us personal phones?” He asks desperately.

“We already have personal phones.”

“I mean not paid for by fucking Waystar,” he exclaims rolling his eyes.

“I have a personal phone, not paid for by Waystar,” she smirks.

**Of course she did. She’s not stupid.**

“Okay. Then I will get one. Can I call and text on that for like personal shit?” He asks, his heart beating out of his chest.

“Yeah, just don’t do anything wild. Like send me pictures that could be hacked. We need to be careful who we talk in front of as well. We should really try and leave no paper trails. Try and talk in person,” she reasons.

“Okay, but that’s pretty fucking difficult when I’m apparently not even allowed to see you?” He says furiously. “And why am I not allowed to see you anyway. Couldn’t we just sneak a little? Like we did with the diners?”

She looks at him and sighs deeply, bringing her hand up to rub her eye.

“Roman, I don’t think you realise the magnitude of this. We’ll be lucky to even get in our apartments when we get home without being hounded. Press are going to be camped out for weeks wanting a comment about your dad, about Ken, about me, about what’s in store. We aren’t going to have a minute without a camera or recording device in our face,” she looks to him pleadingly, willing him to understand.

“Ah, it’s a while since I’ve been through that. Back in my _youth._ I have an underground car park though. You can sneak in there? Stay over?”

“Oh yeah?” She challenges sarcastically. “And what about the security at the apartment? You don’t think they would be open to a one of _large_ payment to give up information on when I enter and leave that building?” She quirks her eyebrow at him as he huffs.

“So what? I’m not allowed to see you at all?”

“You’ll see me in work,” she sighs.

“I can fuck you in work?” He jokes lightly.

She stares him out, quirking her lips. “Disappearing together will start office gossip that we don’t need.”

He huffs again, turning in a circle.

“Am I even allowed to be alone in an office with you? Am I allowed to speak to you, your highness?”

“Of course you are,” she holds out her hand to beckon him as he takes it. “It just has to stay professional.”

He looks down at their hands, his face laced with sadness.

“It won’t be forever,” she reassures him, shaking his hand. “Just until this all dies down.”

He sighs deeply, “it’s just not fair. Just when you agreed to let me touch you. I can’t anymore.”

She smiles sadly at him, understanding his frustration after months of the build-up.

“I know. It won’t be for long,” she soothes as she runs her thumb across his knuckles.

“Now, I really need to get back to work. I have so much to do.”

“Can I kiss you now?” He asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Make it count,” she smirks as he leans down giving her a deep kiss.

*****

They walk through the hallway of the strange building; the walls covered with wood as they are led down a set of stairs into a darker area.

_She had never been here before but it looked like every depiction of a Gentleman’s club she had ever seen. Some fucking James Bondesque English countryside bullshit with a pool table._

“Well look who it is!” She hears Stewy exclaim, seeing him holding his hands out as Sandy stands behind him with his hands in his pockets. “It’s fucking Finch and Stifler’s mom!”

_She has no idea what that is, but she can image what he’s suggesting._

**What the fuck did he just say? Who did he think he was talking about her like that? He had to shut that down now.**

“I know. And right here in front of us, Liberace and what’s his name again? Oh no one remembers because he was THAT unimportant?” Roman fires back.

“Stewy. Sandy,” she nods to them both as she approaches them.

“Gerri, how are you?” Sandy asks politely

Roman rolls his eyes, never one to be interested in corporate bullshit.

“Good thank you and yourself?”

“No complaints with Kendall’s recent Shakespearean stab in the back of his own father,” he chuckles.

Roman however scowls at Stewy who laughs heartily.

“Please have a seat,” Sandy offers politely, all of them sitting down.

“So, what brings you both here? Legal counsel and second Roy son being sent for a final, final, final try,” he chuckles looking over to Stewy.

“Actually no,” Roman pipes up. “As you well know, my father stepped down from the business today. However, tomorrow, Gerri here, will approved as Interim CEO of Waystar Royco by the board. Now what you _maybe_ don’t know, well Stewy you might, having shit yourself every time you’re in her presence; Gerri here knows her shit.”

Gerri smiles lightly, not looking to Roman as he speaks, watching every movement of Sandy and Stewy, watching as their faces crumble.

“So,” Roman continues, faux wincing, “you guys, _might_ just be in trouble. Because you see, the shareholders, well, the big ones know Gerri. They like Gerri and they trust Gerri. Also, the publicity of a non-Roy woman being made CEO of our company with what is it, 33 years worth of experience?” He looks to Gerri.

“34,” she corrects, looking back to them, smiling sweetly.

“Sorry, 34 years worth of experience in the running of every single teeny little aspect of the organisation, with new ideas on how to expand and develop Waystar Royco into something even bigger, might just be a slightly better option for the shareholders than you two.”

“Not necessarily,” Sandy retorts shakily.

“Sorry to interrupt you Roman,” Gerri butts in.

“No, go ahead,” he smiles, sitting back in his chair.

“But also, with the news you were so pleased about breaking in the press, it seems that we have actually had an impromptu poison pill. The share prices are dropping dramatically, and the price that you have already locked in that you are willing to pay for shares, doesn’t _exactly_ make this a very viable option for you anymore. Especially with the trial coming up for Logan. The payments that may need to be further paid out to victims. The money that may need to be spend if people vicariously sue the company. Even the legal counsel that we may need to hire externally for an in-depth independent investigation. Then there is the money being sunk into legal defence for whoever the government may wish to prosecute,” she pauses, looking between the two of them, taking in their glances towards each other.

“This isn’t a deal. It’s a suggestion. You may want to withdraw from this proxy battle before you completely embarrass yourself when the shareholders vote in my favour, or before you end up completely bankrupt after buying a company you now really can’t afford to get a return on. But please, feel free to try because in these difficult times, I could use a laugh,” she smiles sweetly again.

Roman bursts a small laugh out of the huge grin on his face. Watching Sandy and Stewy sit silently, continuing their glances between one another

“Take some time to think about it,” she says standing, Roman following her movements.

“The shareholders meeting is in what? Six days? We will be waiting for your call. Good evening.”

She turns around on her heel and begins walking out. Roman looks at them, gesturing a mic drop and follows her out the room, increasing his strides to catch up with her as she climbs the stairs.

He looks to her, smirking as she returns it happily.

She looks around to see if anyone can see them, the walls around the stairs hiding them from sight.

She reaches her hand out, sliding it across his briefly.

“1-0.”

*****

They’ve just gotten out of the board meeting; she sitting in Logans, well her office, going through her press statement she has to deliver at the press conference in an hour, as Roman and Karolina sit on the couch across the room, watching her nervously.

“You don’t have to watch me do this, you know,” she fires, not looking up from the piece of paper sitting on the desk.

Karolina and Roman look at each other, grimacing.

“Okay, well we leave in five. I will get you in the reception,” Karolina tells her, receiving no response, as she rises and gestures her head to Roman to leave as well.

However, he shakes his head, gesturing his fingers to give them a minute. Karolina rolls her eyes, shaking her head as she walks out, leaving them alone.

“You okay?” He asks gently.

She looks up at him, huffing and sitting back in her chair.

“Yeah, just a little tired,” she breathes, looking through the large glass window across the office as people run around, busy in their workday.

“You’ll kill it, Kellman,” he assures, smiling, earning him a small smile from her as she rises and moves to pick up her coat.

He rises also, forever following her lead, deciding he likes the look of the smile on her lips, attempting to earn another one.

“So, you’re my boss now,” he quips, watching as she raises her eyes over the rim of her glasses to his, fixing her coat at the collar. “Pretty hot.”

“That’s what I was aiming for when I agreed to be Interim CEO. I can retire happily now. I’m sure you being my boss beforehand must have ruined your fantasies of me domineering you, so I’m glad you can finally have your dirty little dreams come true,” she plays back.

_She misses this. Misses him too. They hadn’t been able to do as little as flirt in the past few days, him frustratingly following her rules to a tee. Not that she would be able to do much about them with how tired she felt._

“Mmm… don’t tease. I’m trying to be a good boy,” he whines as she smiles in return.

There is a silence as they look at each other.

**Her eyes look heavier than usual, her face paler, though everything about her is prestine as always.**

“I wish I could give you a kiss for good luck though,” he says taking a step toward, though an appropriate distance to any onlooker.

“Soon,” she breathes, smiling at him.

“Well, I will be right next to you though I can’t hold your hand, but I can try and fight a reporter for you if they start their shit,” he smiles, which she returns.

“But seriously, you don’t need my help. You’re the smartest bitch I know, smarter than all those other loser guys and you’re going to kill it as you usually do. No longer the wallpaper. Finally, getting the recognition you deserve. I’m happy for you, Molewoman.”

_She can feel her insides burning as she looks at the adoration in his eyes._

“Follow me,” she instructs, stalking out the room as he follows silently on her heels with a confused expression.

He follows her down around the desks, watching as she holds up two fingers to Karolina, indicating they would be two minutes, and continuing her strides down the hallway.

**Where the fuck were they going?**

She opens a door, striding into it as he looks at the sign _‘4501’_.

**The South Tank?**

As he walks in, she pushing her back against the door to close it behind her and pressing up against it, when she grabs his shoulder and neck and pulls her to him, offering a passionate kiss.

He is taken by surprise though it only takes a moment for him to react fiercely, his tongue stroking against hers, his hands wrapping around her waist under her coat as she pulls him closer to her, devouring his mouth.

**It’s like coming home. He’s missed her. Knowing how Gerri Kellman’s waist feels under his palm, how the stroke of her tongue feels against his, the smell of her skin, and her small moans of pleasure when he kisses her. It’s addictive and he’s so glad he’s getting his fix, especially when it’s her initiating it.**

She pulls back, pressing her forehead against his when she needs to catch her breath.

“I’ve been waiting days to do that,” she breaths, panting a little.

“Trust me, I’ve been thinking of more than that though this is exactly what I needed right now,” he admits, stroking his hand against her lower back.

“I know,” she whispers. “Soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” he breaths as pecks her lips, she pushing him away from her a little until he stops her.

“Wait,” he exclaims, leaning into kiss her soundly, pulling back quickly.

“Good luck.”

*****

Gerri is exhausted. She hasn’t slept properly in the three days since it all blew up. Between trying to comprise all the shareholders they had to call or visit before the shareholders meeting in five days and working with her team on the legal defence of Logan, trying to find out his official charges, she had no time for sleep.

So, right now, sitting on the couch in her office, watching and listening to the highlights on ATN of the press conference she had held an hour ago; this was the closest she was going to get to a rest.

She heard the presenter penetrating her brain as she finally started paying attention to what was being reported.

“Ms Kellman has been with Waystar Royco legal team for 34 years; 23 years as their General Counsel, taking over the role from her late husband in 1997. She is the first CEO of Waystar Royco not to be a member of the Roy family. This position had been held by Logan Roy since its inception, only being taken over by his second son, Kendall Roy, when he had a brief illness last year. Ms Kellman was very forthright with her experience within the company, sending a message of hope and change for the future. Here is a clip from earlier.”

Gerri watches as the screen removes the presenter, maximising the image of her sitting at the desk next to Roman, with the mic in front of her. Flashing images everywhere, clicking noises, as her voice boomed over them.

**“ _I would like to announce that in a meeting earlier this morning, the Board of Directors have approved my appointment as Interim Chief Executive Officer of Waystar Royco for the foreseeable future, pending the appointment of a permanent replacement of Logan Roy whilst he undergoes investigation into the allegations of misconduct by the authorities. I would like to state that Logan Roy built this organisation into the institution that it is, as a multi-dimensional, thriving business bringing entertainment and news to many generations of not only Americans but all nationalities all over the world._**

**_I have been proud to work for the organisation for 34 years; having many fond memories as the venue where I met my late husband and have had many fulfilling years in their legal team and as General Counsel._ **

**_Despite allegations, the sordid misconduct from the Cruises division from decades ago has only recently been brought to my attention with chauvinistic men such as Lester McLintoch having abused their positions of power for their own personal gain. As a woman and as a mother of two daughters, I was sickened by the news of his misconduct which would obviously have a profound impact on many young vulnerable women. _ **

**_I can assure you that the first order of business under my command will be a full investigation into any sexual misconduct in the entirety of Waystar Royco by an independent review board and legal team. My hopes are that the outcome of this will reveal that this was an isolated incident by one bad apple. But my aims are to ensure that those who have suffered at the hands of one monster not only receive the appropriate retribution and apology they deserved, but also that their voices have an impact on the future policies in place in the entirety of the company to safeguard any employee, to ensure this never happens again, and to empower any employee to have a voice which will be heard.”_ **

She watches as Roman sits next to her, looking at her in awe, as if she were some inspiration.

_She would really need to talk to him about that; he really was going to end up giving the game away._

**“ _As a woman who has not always been in an executive position at Waystar Royco, I had always heard the horror stories of surrounding women in this industry. As a young woman entering this world, I had been given the warnings by both men and women, and both explicitly and inexplicity been warned of the dangers of a young woman in what many have deemed to be a man’s world. Whilst, there is no doubt that the presence of sexual misconduct is rife within this industry, I would like to firmly state that I have never myself experienced or known any other female to experience such behaviour at Waystar Royco without any serious repercussion in accordance with the sexual harassment policies which are currently in place. Sexual harassment is something I have always taken very seriously, haven drawn up the policies against it myself for this organisation when I was in my infancy at this organisation in 1988. Waystar Royco have always taken allegations of this nature extremely seriously and as General Counsel, I have always ensured a zero-tolerance policy on such behaviour._**

**_So, I urge any member of staff in Waystar Royco to please report any kind of experience they may have had to their superior. Please be aware that in the policy there is also a whistleblowing email address where you can report any allegations to a confidential line where you will be taken seriously. Ultimately, I would like to urge any member of staff, not just female, in any organisation, whether independent business or Fortune 500 company to please report any instance of sexual misconduct to an appropriate person. Please remember that if it is the highest superior then you can also contact local authorities.”_ **

“Hi,” Karolina interrupts, walking in looking down at the folder she is carrying and sitting on the edge of the sofa Gerri is on. “So, we’ve had a lot of people reaching out since the press conference and I think we should really take advantage of them.”

Gerri nods, still looking over Karolina’s shoulder watching herself continue the rest of her statement, “like what? Interviews or?”

“Well, there are a few interviews yeah. They want you on ATN for an interview which is a given. There are some other small-time shit, like the View, People, blab bla,” Karolina looks down her list.

Gerri rolls her eyes, straining them immediately after as she watches Roman begin to speak, Gerri on screen looking at him with a small smirk.

_She was really going to have to have a talk with herself because she too was giving the fucking game away. Good God._

“However,” Karolina gets her attention back, “And don’t fly off the handle.”

“Uhu…” Gerri responds hesitantly, looking at Karolina suspiciously.

“Forbes want to do a cover story on you,” Karolina looking at her expectantly.

She gasps, completely shocked. “A cover? Of me? Is this a joke?”

“No. You’re apparently now only one of the 38 females who are CEOs of a Fortune 500 company and they want to do a story on that. On how women are underrepresented in these positions. They want to find out about you and how you got there, and how you even became the General Counsel of a huge company in 1997 because it was so unusual. I think it would be brilliant for your image. The feminism thing is rife just now. It would get a lot of shares on social media, your name would be positively discussed, creating hype, it would boost the image of the company, and raise popularity. But it would also be good in the eyes of the shareholders if you could slip it into conversation with them.”

Gerri stares at Karolina, her tongue pressing into the inside of her mouth as she considers it.

_She can see what Karolina means. The feminism thing was huge right now, especially with the ‘Me Too’ movement. It would really boost the positive image of the company and help her seem favourable. But a fucking cover story. Fuck._

She sighs deeply, “what does it involve?”

“I think they are just looking for an interview and ahem… a photoshoot.”

“A fucking photoshoot?” Gerri’s eyes are bulging.

_She wasn’t some fucking model who could pose for photographs. She didn’t even want to do the fucking interview. She was silent but deadly Gerri. She sat in the background trying not to be seen and waited to pounce. Not fucking posing for photoshoots, everyone’s eyes on her._

“Yeah,” Karolina confirms with an awkward smile.

“Fuck. Well…” Gerri huffs again.

_It was so out of her comfort zone, but this is what Logan was trying to do. He was trying to get her to fail and it really would boost the company if she got it right_

“How long would it take because I have a lot to do. I’m up to my eyes in Logan’s defence. I’m trying to prep for these shareholders in London tomorrow –“

“A few hours. When you get back from England. I will help you prep,” Karolina smiles.

_She would do it. She never backed down from a challenge. She could get it right. She would show them all._

“Okay,” she agrees, pointing her finger at Karolina. “But I’m not wearing some crazy stupid dress or fashion piece. I’m wearing a suit!”

“You can bring a few suits,” Karolina smiles, standing up and leaving the room.

Gerri puffs, looking back at the screen, watching as the reporters laugh at something Roman has quipped in response to a question.

*****

He climbs the stairs up into the private jet, his assistant bambling behind him as he saunters into the main area, seeing Gerri already comfortable in an armchair, laptop on a table as she scrolls.

He smirks, thinking of how he could use the information Karolina gave him this morning to mess with her, potentially earning him a smile he finds he’s now collecting.

“Oh my god! Gerri Kellman?” He shouts surprised as her head snaps up to look at him, his booming voice unable to be ignored. “Thee Gerri Kellman? The super model? Can I have your autograph please?”

“Fuck off,” she rolls her eyes, looking back down to her laptop as he continues.

“I just want to let you know I’ve personally jerked off to a poster of you on my wall for a while now so it would be an honour and a privilege if you could sign my chest,” he jests, sitting down across from her grasping the arms of the chair and smirking.

As she continues ignoring him, he grows impatient looking for attention.

“When's the big modelling job then?”

“Friday, I think.”

He pulls a face, “I’m surprised they didn’t ask me considering my plethora of experience, Rockstar personality, and boyish good looks.”

She looks up from her laptop with a small smile, as he quirks his eyebrows at her.

“I think you would need a gender reassignment for this particular angle.”

“Ohh,” he leans forward excitedly, “the woman thing?”

She hums, leaning back in her chair, “only the 38th out of the Fortune 500.”

He whistles his astonishment, “pretty impressive, Kellman. Hawt.”

She looks around at the assistants in the next cabin to determine if they could hear that, unsure why that seems closer to the mark than him declaring he masturbates to a poster of her.

He looks around to where she had just had, noting that there were only a couple of flight attendants and their assistants accompanying them on this flight to London. He makes sure everyone is in the next cabin and no one is in sight as he reaches his leg over under the table she has propped up and grazes her calf with his foot.

“Roman,” she warns, looking up at him over the rim of her glasses. “Don’t you have some work you could be doing before you meet with your mother?”

“Mmm,” he shrugs. “Don’t feel like I need to create a report to show dear mother. She’s more mind games and tactics which I respect. I’m preparing right now as I think up some good retorts. You’re watching a man in his element creating genius ideas as we speak,” he smiles, pointing to his temple.

“So, what’s the plan?” She leans back in her chair giving him her full attention as she watches him stand, removing his jacket, and lying across the couch next to them.

“Well, I just need to go over there and make sure she will vote against Sandy and Stewy. The last time her sole motive was to fuck over dad and she got what she wanted. I genuinely believe it’s what she lives for; taking a stab at dad at any opportunity.”

“Uhu,” she gives, her tongue running over the inside of her cheek.

“So, I’m going to feel her out. See what she thinks about you as CEO, because truthfully, whilst Sandy and Stewy would be a stab to dad; you being a successful CEO in his place would be an even bigger blow. So I’m going to convince her of that,” he determines, rolling onto his side to look at her.

“Well, Caroline and I always got on, even after the divorce got messy. Thank fuck I’m not a divorce lawyer. But her opinions of whether I would be a competent CEO, you have to find out for yourself,” she shrugs, turning her attention back to her laptop.

He watches her, wanting her to continue giving him attention.

“And you’re going to see Phillipe Layton and his cronies?”

“Yeah,” she breathes. “A few others afterward.”

“Well, I’m only having lunch with mommie dearest so why don’t I come with you? Want to game it out?” He quirks his eyebrows again.

She smiles, rubbing her forehead, “If you want. But I’ve already done a lot of preparation thank you. I more or less just need to convince them that I can make them money and bring them good publicity; that’s the long and short of it.”

“Okay, well I can easily slip in your cover girl photoshoot,” he smirks, never able to resist the urge to tease her as she rolls her eyes again. “How about you tell me about those ideas you had wanted to implement, and we can slip them in as a little cock tease for these old gentlemen?”

“Most of my ideas are structural differences to cut costs across the whole organisation, using different strategies and modelled plans. I can send you the report if you really want to look at them?” She challenges, testing his interest in the boring stuff.

“I really do,” he smiles gently.

_How was Roman Roy the only person who had ever wanted to listen to her ideas and take them in? Of everyone she would have picked to have asked to look at her admittedly not thrilling modelled ideas to improve the company, she never would have thought it was him. What a surprise he always was._

“Okay. I will send them over. I also had this idea which I tried to pitch to your dad but never did get the opportunity. Do you know Edwin Grantham?”

“Yeah, Ace Airlines?”

“Yeah. Well he was at Shiv’s wedding last year, cornered me in the fucking library or whatever it was and was talking a lot of drabble,” she rolls her eyes.

**He didn’t like the sound of that. He thinks there may have been more to that exchange than she was letting on. He’s getting the feeling that this English debonaire dude was trying it on, which he can only imagine Gerri politely evaded. He hopes.**

“Typical,” he determines.

“However, he revealed a lot. Bachelor. No kids. Is considering selling it all to live the high life,” she raises her eyebrows, seeing if he’s catching her meaning.

“Ah… wants to live la vida loca,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, but it’s a money maker. A good investment and it could lead to a whole new division for Waystar. They are one of the biggest airlines in the UK. They go international, but mainly the USA and Canada. We could easily expand it over to here if we wanted. It has a lot of potential,” she divulges.

“I think it’s a good investment, Gerri. How much is he looking for?” He asks seriously.

“I’m not sure. I think it’s affordable though. When this proxy battle is over, it’s something I was planning on pursuing. Coming back to London and setting up a meeting with him to feel him out,” she considers nonchalantly.

“I’m coming with you then,” he tells her firmly. “Would be good to whisper the idea of this in the shareholders ears as well. So, they know there are big plans in the works and not just the same old shit as before.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” she says chewing her lip.

“You know…” he starts hesitantly. “I have some ideas too. I don’t know if they are stupid though. I don’t think they are, but you know.”

“Tell me,” she looks to him seriously as he squirms a little, sitting up.

**Holy shit, that was the first time anyone really wanted his input when it came to ideas. The way she was looking at him so interested and encouraging. Fuck.**

“Well you know this whole streaming service shit with Netflix and Disney Plus etc. Why don’t we have our own streaming service for the movies we make in the studios? Move with the times. I have some contacts from when I was in LA for Independents who would be desperate to get on a streaming platform or if they are with a different streaming site or whatever, we could try and poach them. Could maybe lead to the acquisition or pairing up with another studio meaning we can also expand the parks. But then I had this other idea. I was trolling through Instagram and there was this picture of a fake streaming platform for Broadway musicals and it got like 25,000 or 30,000 likes with thousands of comments of people saying they were desperate for something like it,” he looks at her expectantly.

She raises her eyebrows, confused but encouraging him to continue.

“Okay so did you know that for like decades nearly every single show on Broadway, Chicago Broadway, or London West End musical, even some smaller theatres have been recorded and saved in archives, mainly here in New York Public Library because it’s like documenting history or some shit. So, there are all these musicals and plays from all these legends when they were younger or dead people, or even just versions of the musicals with a person’s favourite performer which are all recorded but are never used. So, with fucking Hamilton coming out for Disney Plus and it going MEGA, I think we should do it. There aren’t really any big streaming platforms like it. I think it’s a gap in the market that people would go crazy for. We could be the Netflix of stage. A streaming service that people would be willing to pay more for than just movies because it’s so niche, where Broadway fanatics can watch fucking Patti LuPone on repeat and people can introduce their kids to Broadway legends, Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams plays, and shit,” he raises his eyebrows, afraid of her reaction.

“Wouldn’t it cause a hit back from Broadway though, who want people to come and see their musicals and plays in person though?”

“No, you see that’s the beauty of it. It only goes onto the platform when the musical or play ends. The people making it will be making even more money on top of the tickets from the shows after the run is over. The people who run Broadway are mainly from fucking Wall Street. That’s the thing with shit like this. Think of Gypsy. You know Gyspsy right?”

“Uhu.”

“There are some people who would watch every single fucking version of Gypsy because they compare the portrayals of the main role. Everyone has their favourite, their ranking of who was the best to who was the worst but people still want to watch all of them. There is YouTube videos and everything dedicated it. People who haven’t even seen all the versions in full commenting on it based on a tiny snippet. And then if fucking I don’t know, fucking Billy Porter decided to play Gypsy on Broadway next year, people would still go see it and just throw him into the mix. People would still go to the theatre because they love the play or the musical so much that they still go see it no matter the cast because it’s something to do, it’s a night off, because people want to compare it. Think of like Hairspray. So that musical came out and everyone went crazy for it, and now when it tours people go and see it even if they have no idea who the fuck is in it because they like the music and they _know_ the music. It’s like going to see your favourite band even though they are in their 70s and can’t hit the notes anymore. You just go because it’s fun and you know the music. But yeah, the idea is that you wouldn’t release anything until after the run is over. They are just sitting collecting dust in archive rooms and that’s a money maker,” he gasps, his pitch to her exhausting him.

“Rome,” she smiles a little. “I actually think it’s a brilliant idea. It would be a great expansion.”

“Yeah?” He breathes, a grin forming on his face.

“Yeah. Can you look into it for the logistics, costs, distributions rights of recordings etc.?”

“Yeah, I can get right on it. But it could be another thing to try and sell to the shareholders?” He suggests.

“No, you don’t want anyone to know about it in case they try and jump the gun before us. This should be a new idea,” she writes down notes on a pad promptly.

“I think there are some sites out there, but the distribution rights to some of the recordings are so high because there are so many people involved that they can’t afford it so they can’t get the content for it to take off,” he shrugs.

“Well we can afford it. Look into it,” she smiles.

“Okay,” he reaches down to grasp his laptop bag, pulling the laptop out.

“Rome?” He looks up to her expectantly, like a deer in the headlights.

“Good work, honey,” she whispers, offering a wink before looking back down to her laptop.

***

There is a knock at his hotel room door, which was surprising considering it was 10pm and they had only got back from their dinner date with Phillipe Layton and his cronies a half hour ago.

He had tried to coax her into his room, their assistants in the shittier rooms on the floor below. However, she had kept her distance from him, offering a wry smile as she rebuffed his attempts.

So, imagine his surprise when he swung the door open to Gerri talking on the phone and barging into his room as he was still opening it.

“Well, hello…” he greets her flirtatiously, as she spins around quickly holding her finger up to her mouth for him to be quiet.

“Uhu. Uhu,” she says down the phone, nodding as he rolls his eyes.

She walks around the room, whilst he stands still, hands on his hips watching her.

“Well, I think that’s for the best, don’t you? I think you’ve made a wise decision,” she states firmly down the phone, looking down at the carpeting.

**He notices her ugg boots over the pants she had been wearing tonight. She must have been getting comfortable.**

“No, I will contact my team and we will draw everything up… uhu… all right. Thank you for your call,” she responds, pulling the phone away from her ear and hanging up.

He looks at her expectantly, with his hands held up, as her eyes slowly meet his.

“They pulled out,” she states calmly.

“What?”

**He has no fucking clue what she’s talking about.**

“Sandy and Stewy. They pulled out,” she explains, a small smile growing on her face.

“What?!” He shouts, his hands clasping over his mouth. “Jesus Christ, you’re kidding.”

She shakes her head, putting a hand over her mouth, her other still clutching the phone.

“Jesus Christ,” he shouts excitedly, striding towards her and attacking her with a fierce hug which she returns giggling.

“Oh my god,” she breathes over this shoulder, clutching around his shoulders.

He pulls back, still holding her, looking into her face.

“You did it, Gerri. You fucking did it,” he tells her excitedly, clumsily kissing her hard and extracting.

“We did it, Rome,” she smiles, patting his shoulder. “But we’ve got work to do yet.”


	2. Scenes from an Act of Treason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Gerri in italics.  
> Thoughts of Roman in bold.

_It felt weird, sitting in a seat in front of a huge mirror with light bulbs all around it; a young girl half her age, doing her makeup as she tried to make polite conversation. She’s had makeup done for big events, usually with the same woman she’s used for years coming to her apartment when she’s in New York. It’s awkward having to make conversation whilst they are intimately up in your face. And what does a CEO of a Fortune 500 have in common with a young makeup artist? Well apparently, the answer to that was Roman Roy._

“Is he really as crazy in person as the tabloids make out?” The young girl asks as she puts the finishing touches on her eye makeup.

“He’s a character,” Karolina comments from the couch over at the wall, saving her from having to answer.

_Thank god Karolina was here as a buffer._

“Oh really? In what way?” The girl asks excitedly.

“He’s not all that bad,” Gerri tries to pull back. _The last thing they needed was rumours that Roman was still a party boy._ “I think he was a little too excitable in his youth, but he’s matured now that he’s the COO of a huge organisation,” Gerri continues, forcing a smile in the mirror to the girl.

“Mmm… how old is he?” She asks.

“Uhm… 38?” Karolina estimates, pulling a face.

“Really? He seems so young. Looks it too. I would have thought he was in his early 30’s,” she reasons, holding a brush.

_Was it worse that she was secretly dating a guy who not only was 20 years younger than her but seemed nearly 30 years younger? Jesus._

“Pout for me,” the girl instructs Gerri, pouting herself to indicate what she means, Gerri following as the girl brushes some kind of dark contour under Gerri’s cheek bones.

“Yeah. He does have a youthful energy,” Karolina comments distractedly, looking at her phone.

Once the blusher is finished, Gerri looks around to Karolina.

“So, what is the plan with this photoshoot? One picture and we’re out?” She asks, her voice hopeful.

_She has already completed the interview. It had gone well from what she estimated. She was able to evade the questions about Logan and the Roy’s instead following Karolina’s advice and focussing on her own story of her time at University, her achievements, how she had progressed, and what she had accomplished with the advent of the sexual harassment policies in ’87 for the corporation. She tried to focus on the message of female empowerment and the qualities she believed she had that would make her a stellar interim. The only question that threw her off was whether there were any hopes of her becoming permanent in the position. She had attempted to evade it also, with a simple, “well that’s not up to myself, that’s up to the board.” Neither shooting it down, nor putting herself into the mix publicly for Logan to pounce on._

“Uhm… no. So, we have three suits? They will just change you in and out of them, get you to pose in different ways, just like… the usual stuff…,” Karolina explained nervously.

Gerri’s eyes bulged, turning her head to Karolina as the young girl held a lip pencil near her face.

“Turn your head back for me,” she instructs with a finger under Gerri’s chin, trailing the perimeter of Gerri’s lips when she follows.

“Three outfits? I have work I still have to do today! The meeting for the pitch is tomorrow morning,” she fires at Karolina when the girl finishes.

“Hey, at least you’re not wearing any fashion pieces,” Karolina smirks, turning her attention back to her phone.

“Okay, do you want to change into one of your suits now before I put on the lipstick?” The girl asks her kindly.

Gerri huffs, pushing herself out of the chair.

It was the most awkward experience of her life. The photographer, an older man with a beret and a goatee, kept telling her to stand in certain positions, told her to “play with it”.

_What the fuck does that even mean?_

She tries to cross her arms over, then realises that’s too _Shark Tank_ so undoes them quickly. Tries to awkwardly put her hands on her waist, which makes her look like fucking Super Nanny. She doesn’t know what to do, so settles for some kind of clasping her hands slightly in front of her, eventually getting fed up with the stupidity and gestures to the desk, requesting if she can try sitting there.

She can tell the photographer is getting frustrated with her but “play with it”, it’s exactly much of a direction for someone who's never been here before.

She’s surprised when the saving grace is the young makeup artist who comes up to touch up her makeup as she sits at the desk.

“Just relax. Remember you’re more powerful than anyone else in this room. Show them that,” the young girl winks and walks back over behind the photographer.

_She was right. She was powerful and she didn’t buy into all this shit. She would sit exactly how she would sit in every other fucking meeting when she was ready to pulverise her opponent and fuck them if they didn’t like it._

She’s shocked when they eat it up, them shouting at her to pick up the pen on the desk and sign her name, taking some candid photos as she does so, asking her to come around the desk and sit on it’s perch to pose in front of it.

The photographer brings the camera over to her, showing her some of the shots and she’s astounded to see that she looks kind of sexy? Powerful? Like the fucking head bitch in charge. She’s even more amazed when she realises, she really likes the feeling.

*****

Later that night when she is typing away on her laptop, simultaneously producing the report to take over to London with them in a few days and the pitch they need to give to Logan tomorrow morning, she is not so shocked to hear a phone call from Roman on her personal phone.

“Hey,” she offers, putting the phone on loudspeaker and sitting it next to her on the couch as she goes back to her laptop.

“Hey. How you doing?” He asks her, sighing.

“Mmm… not too bad. I’ve had a lot done on this report and the pitch. How about you?”

“Not horrible. Just back from dinner with Shiv. Fucking sick of hearing about the shit with Tom but apparently she’s taken my advice and went to therapy,” he rolls his eyes, with the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder.

“Oh, that’s good,” she offers, her eyes straining as she reads the text on her screen.

“How did it go at the photo shoot, Kate Moss? Did you get him to take the nude photos like I asked for?”

“Yeah, but he said they were too perfect to possibly give out to anyone so he’s keeping them for his own private collection,” she jests back without missing a beat.

“Mmm… who could blame him?” He laughs.

“It went all right. Was awkward at first but I think I ended up getting the hang of it.”

“Oh yeah? I can’t wait to see them. Bet you look hawt,” he smiles, playing with a fidget cube she had bought him. “How was the interview?”

“It was good. The reporter was nice enough. Tried to throw a curveball at me by asking if I wanted to be elected permanent CEO.”

“And do you?”

“I don’t know. It’s still early days. Will need to see how it goes I suppose. How was your meeting with the archive guy at the library?”

“Oh, it was good. He gave me a lot of insight into the issues there. Apparently, there are certain rules and regulations about getting them bla bla, which is fucking stupid considering the whole point in archiving them is to preserve them so that people can fucking see them but whatever. Apparently, _individuals_ are allowed to go in and watch them with permission and you can apply online. But on a bigger scale, he said the issue is that there is no single distributor. It’s about who owns the rights to the music, then the book, then the actors, bla bla. But because distribution chat isn’t in their contracts for them to be paid for release of recordings because they were only taken with the intention of archiving them, it’s about contacting the people, getting approval, and negotiating payment, etc. However, it seems that the people who want them just don’t have the manpower or the money, sooooo. In comes the stallion that is Roman Roy,” he chuckles.

“Well, it sounds like you got a lot of information anyway,” she reasons.

“Yeah, he gave me a list of what they have on record so we can pass it to legal and they can start research and contacting them so, it’s a start. I think the next stage is to go out to LA and start putting the feelers out on the down low. Meet with some of the people who handled Netflix’s online platform.”

“Sounds good,” she says continuing her typing.

“What you doin’?”

“Editing this plan to send to your dad about Ace Airlines for the pitch tomorrow.”

“Thought you finished that last night.”

“I did. Just checking the wording and was getting a start on the plan to take to London if your dad gives the go ahead.”

He sits in silence with her for another ten minutes as she types every so often, him messing with his fidget cube as he lies in bed, watching the headlines on his TV across the room.

Finally, she grunts, saving the document.

“Okay, I’m done. I can’t look at another word, my head is pounding,” she declares, closing the laptop down and lying back against the pillows on the couch.

“I can think of something else I would rather be pounding…” he flirts, laughing a little.

“Oh really? Is that where this is going? I thought you didn’t know how to have phone sex like a normo?” She smiles, closing her eyes, picking up her phone and sitting it on her chest so she can hear him better.

“I mean, I don’t, but before I never knew how to even have sex like a normo so congratulations you have had my three attempts at it” he laughs.

“And very decent attempts they were,” she smiles.

“Decent? Hey, I know how to do… do the sex, I just don’t know how to control my… you know… fucked up brain during it.”

“I know and you did so well. It’s even been a while since our old-time phone calls,” she thinks back.

“Yeah. Seems like a lifetime ago. Still hot though. Have you ever had phone sex other than that?”

“Well, I think I tried to a few times with Baird but was much more difficult back then when you had a brick of a cell phone or had to sit by a landline. Became a little easier when they had cordless landlines and flip phones. I didn’t really do it often though; I would always think of the Camillagate thing,” she laughs.

“The fucking what?”

“Camillagate? When in the 90's the press hacked Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles, as she was then. Their phone line was tapped when they were kind of having phone sex. Caused a whole thing because everyone loved Princess Diana. Lead to a lot of phone hacking laws implemented though.”

“Fuck off! Prince Charles and Camilla having phone sex and it was leaked? I need to see this,” he says as she hears he’s put her on speaker.

“Go on Google. There was a transcript and everything. I’m sure you will find it easily.”

“Got it,” he says as he begins reading.

_She knew what was coming but she would rather hear the reaction of him reading it than giving him the big reveal herself._

“No… nooooooo. Fuck off. He wants to be her tampon? A box of tampons? And she’s into it?”

“Are you getting a hard on just reading it?” She giggles, teasing him.

“Fuck, yeah. Fuck,” he says shocked, still reading it. **It’s weird and truth be told it was kind of making him hard.**

She chuckles as she closes her eyes listening to him.

“I think it’s actually quite… I don’t know. Sweet?” He reveals after reading through it.

“Sweet?” Her eyes pop open.

“Yeah. Like he just wants to be close to her and she wants him to be there as well so they use the tampon analogy, and they can’t see each other even though they really want to. It’s just a transcript and you can tell how much they miss each other. They say “Love you” like forty times before they hang up. And they got married in the end didn’t they? Have been together for years? Awww, this changes everything. Team Camilla!”

She laughs, “who knew you were such a romantic?”

“Hey! I’m fucking romantic! I hold open doors for you and shit,” he hits back offended.

“That you do do.”

“I would do more if I could. That transcripts made me sad now. I miss you,” he declared so purely.

_She can feel her heart melt at his sincerity, at how uninhibited he can be._

“I miss you, too. But I don’t wish you were my tampon. I’m well past those days anyway,” she jests to cheer him up.

“Well what else do they suggest, a pair of knickers?” He laughs.

“I don’t wish you were that either.”

“I wish I was there,” he says sadly.

“I bet you do,” she says suggestively.

“Not for that!” He protests, “though that is also a very appealing thought.”

She smiles again, closing her eyes.

“You want me there and you know it!” He shouts down the phone. “To annoy you and make you martinis. Do you have a bar? I’ve never seen your house. Give me a tour!”

“Roman, I’m tired,” she moans, trying to keep up with his rapid thought processes.

“Come on. Put your camera on and show me around!”

For some reason she agrees, putting on the camera and showing him each room, ignoring him when he says something about it being like an episode of _Cribs_. She turns off the lights as she leaves each room, deciding she will end at her bedroom and settle in for the night since they have such a long day ahead tomorrow.

“And this is the bedroom, complete with an en suite,” she says swirling the camera around to show him each corner.

“Your apartment is cool. And look at that bed. I absolutely want to do a run and face plant into it,” he tells her seriously.

“Mmm… I’m going to go to bed I think,” she says sleepily, turning the camera around accidentally and catching her image, grimacing as she tries to turn it off.

He puts his on to distract her, “stay on the phone with me whilst you get ready. Keep the camera on whilst you change.”

He winks down the phone as she shakes her head.

“No way, you little pervert. I will stay on the phone for now, but the camera is going off,” she says turning it off.

“Spoil sport,” he says turning his camera off as well.

“Give me a minute. I’m going to go get changed,” she says putting the phone on loudspeaker and throwing it on her bed as she walks to the bathroom.

“Think of me as you undress yourself!” He shouts, which echo’s through her room.

She rolls her eyes as goes to get changed, brushing her teeth, and rubbing cream into her face and hands.

He hears her coming back into the room, the shuffling of clothing or bed covers or something.

“I’m back.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting into bed,” she says strained, her muscles aching, climbing up onto the bed under the covers and reaching for her phone to bring it up to settle on her chest again as she lies back with a sigh.

“What pant suit pyjama combo do you have on tonight?” He teases.

“What makes you think I’m not sleeping nude?”

“Fuck Gerri,” he groans, his fidget cube thrown to the side as he slides his hand down his stomach to palm his growing hard on.

She laughs a little, “a purple one.”

“with the flowers from Tern Haven?”

“No, that was a light blue”

“Or a lilac.”

“Mmm… No this is just plain old dark purple. Plum you might call it,” she says looking at the colour on her sleeve.

“Why do women never ask men what they are wearing?”

“Because we have an imagination for ourselves. We don’t need to be explicitly told.”

“Are you imagining then?”

“I’m guessing boxers or pyjama pants with no top,” she reasons with her eyes closed, her hands folded over her stomach on the covers.

“Boxers tonight. It’s warm.”

“Bingo.”

“I wish I was there, Gerri. You’re all I can think of,” he breathes, still palming himself.

She smirks, opening her eyes, looking at the phone.

_She’s so exhausted but she also needs a sweet release. She hasn’t even had the chance to touch herself in over a week._

“You really want to try and do this?”

“If you do. I’m just not really sure I know how,” he quirks his eyebrows.

“All right. Well we’ll take it slow. How about you tell me what you would want to do if you were here?” She asks him, moving her hands under the covers.

“Fuck Gerri. I don’t even know. Uhm… probably kiss you. I fucking love kissing you.”

“Mhmm. Are you on top then? Or you want me to be?”

He thinks for a moment, closing his eyes to consider what he would like.

“No, I want you under me so I can kiss and lick your neck and unbutton your pantsuit shirt,” he suggests reticently, unsure on whether that was the right answer.

“Yeah,” she encourages, undoing the first few buttons of her shirt with her eyes closed as she imagines him there, running her fingers across the exposed skin. “Then I’ll unbutton my shirt for you. What would you do after that?”

He groans at the thought of her lying on her bed with her shirt lying open, touching herself as she listens to him.

“I would just kiss down your whole-body Gerri,” he continues breathing heavily, still stroking himself.

“And what about your hands, Roman? What would they be doing?”

He closes his eyes, thinking. “Probably just touch you. Run them across your chest or your sides?” He asks his voice moving up an octave, his nerves getting the better of him.

“Yeah. That would feel amazing,” she breathes. “You’re doing a great job.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm… I think if you were here, I would wrap my legs around yours so you were tight against me and I could push my hips up into you to rub against you. Run my hands across your hair and shoulders,” she says rubbing against her chest and sides with her eyes closed.

“Yeah?” he breathes, stroking himself firmly.

“Can you feel it, Roman? Me pressing up against you. Me rubbing myself up against you as you lie in between my legs?” Her voice is sultry, her eyes closed, before she opens them to look at her phone as she hears small gasps coming through it.

“I want to give you head, Gerri.”

Her breath hitches at that as her hand drifts down under her pyjama bottoms, whilst she spreads her legs further so she can touch the spot that was screaming for him.

“I would love for you to do that,” she affirms, rubbing against her clit in circles.

“Would you?”

“Yeah, honey,” she whispers, rolling her hips and pushing them up into her hand.

“Gerri, I wish I was there. I want to be inside you,” he moans, pumping his dick more furiously.

“Oh, I want you inside me as well, Roman. Deep inside me,” she gasps, her breathing becoming more ragged.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she breathes. “But I wish it were you. Every time I touch myself, I imagine it’s you. For the longest time now,” she continues moving the liquid around as she feels the build-up within her mounting.

“Fuck Gerri. If I was there, I would be fucking you so fucking hard until you screamed,” he strains, his eyes closed as his hand goes into overtime, his climax just over the hill.

“Oh, Rome. Fuck me. Fuck me harder,” she whines, as she finally falls over the edge, gasping and calling his name. “I’m coming. Fuck, Roman. Fuck,” she shouts as she pushes her hips harder into her fingers, the liquid pooling at her entrance as she seizes around nothing; her hand flying up to her mouth as she screams into the back of her hand, running her tongue along it and imagining it was him on top of her.

“Fuck Gerri. I’m almost there,” he grits out, almost on the brink of euphoria.

“Come for me, Roman. Spill yourself inside me,” she moans raggedly as she begins coming down from her own orgasm. She hears him straining, small moans and yeses escaping from him. “That’s it. Come on, Rome. Give it to me,” she continues hoarsely.

“Fuck yeah, Gerri!” He shouts as he ejaculates, his seed spilling over his hand, shooting onto his boxers surrounding him. “Gerri, Jesus Christ! Yeah.”

He breathes heavily as he begins to come down from his orgasm, his chest heaving as he grabs a handkerchief from the bedside table, wiping himself and throwing it on the table.

“Add that to the list of things you’re good at,” she tells him, her voice hoarse.

“Fuck Gerri. That was amazing. How do you do it? How do you perform witchcraft on this fucked up mind?” He whispers.

“It’s you that does it. You just need some encouraging in the right way. That’s all.”

“I wish I was there to kiss you goodnight,” he closes his eyes, picturing it in his head.

“Mmm… curled up behind me,” she adds, turning onto her side and closing her eyes to snuggle into her pillow instead.

“Yeah, some spooning. Hopefully we can soon,” he tells her.

“Yeah,” she breathes, her voice sleepy.

“Get some sleep, Ger. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, honey,” she half whispers, half mumbles.

He smiles, another beautiful memory for his memory bank when he felt the lowest of the low.

“G’night.”

*****

**He can’t tell if the meeting is going well or not.**

His dad is on speaker phone in the large meeting room as Gerri goes through the report page by page discussing the logistics of going after Ace Airlines, whilst Roman and Frank follow along, throwing in their two cents every time Logan brings up a potential flaw.

**He’s glad that his dad isn’t in the room. It feels much more honest when Gerri can roll her eyes or give Frank or Roman a pointed look to step in and say something when Logan sounds as though he’s swaying. It also means he can do a number of rude gestures at the phone whenever his dad is clearly being a dick towards Gerri’s logic.**

Once the whole report has been scrutinised from start to finish, he watches as she folds her hands over on the desk, leaning forward as she waits for his deduction, stepping in when he stays silent.

“He seemed really keen to sell when I spoke to him at Shiv’s wedding, Logan,” she declares, looking at Frank for some back up.

“Yeah. I spoke to him briefly as well Logan and he does seem up for it. It looks like a sound investment for expansion from the numbers here,” Frank chimes in.

“We felt out the shareholders about it as well and they seem interested, dad. The airline has a really good brand and could be expanded within itself. I mean with the figures from the last ten years showing at least a 7% increase in profits each year, it seems legitimate. There is a lot of opportunity here,” Roman states confidently, holding his hands up waiting for a response.

“Okay,” Logan finally confirms. “Speak to the guy and at least see if he actually wants to sell. Get a potential pricing point of what he’s interested in taking. We will maybe take it if we can get it for below its value.”

Gerri makes eye contact with Frank and Roman before speaking.

“Absolutely. I will get right on that,” she declares in a sing song lilt.

“Is that us then or is there anything else?” Logan asks sounding frustrated.

“Nope, I think that’s it,” Frank answers, smiling awkwardly.

The phone hangs up without a goodbye.

“Hello? Helloooooo,” Roman says. “He just fucking hung up,” Roman laughs lightly.

Gerri looks at Frank pointedly, who raises his eyebrows in return.

Roman spots this, looking between the two of them, grimacing whilst trying to find out what the fuck is going on here.

“I’ll tell Claire to confirm that meeting in London then for Monday,” she confirms.

“I’ve got a 1 O’clock lunch. I will catch you both later,” Frank declares, standing and leaving the room, as Gerri stands up, gathering her papers.

“What the fuck was that about?” He asks her angrily.

**He doesn’t like the idea of her hiding shit from him.**

“What?”

“You and Frank with the fucking look,” he asks again, throwing his hands up pointing at where Frank had just been sitting.

“Not here,” she whispers, picking up her items and beginning to walk out the meeting room.

She looks back, holding the door open and gesturing her head for him to follow her. He scrambles his shit together, following her quickly as they make their way to her office.

“Claire, can you confirm with Grantham’s people that we are good to go for Monday.”

“Sure,” the woman responds.

“We’re going out for a business lunch. If you need me, you can get me on my cell,” she declares to her assistant as she moves into the office.

“Get your coat,” she instructs him as she moves into her office to grab her own.

They sit through a quiet lunch, he waiting the whole time for her to spill the fucking beans.

“After, okay?” She tells him, watching as his bouncing leg stops and they can resume normal conversation for the first time in a long time.

When they are leaving the restaurant, he moves to the left to walk back towards the office, but she grabs his arm, pulling him back towards her, gesturing for them to go to the right instead. He follows her silently down two blocks, taking a random turn leading him into the Bowling Green park, walking up towards the huge fountain in the middle.

“I’ve been talking to Frank,” she begins. “We’ve been trying to figure out what to do about your dad. But I want to let you know that you don’t need to be in on this and that we don’t even know if we are going to pursue it.”

“Why haven’t you included me in the discussions already?” He asks her annoyed.

“Because we only had the conversation this morning and I knew it would be hard for you, Rome,” she sighs, continuing her slow steps as she looks down at the pavement, whilst he follows her, glancing at her every now and then.

“Your dad is holding us back in the company. So, we are considering fucking his legal defence deliberately so that he goes away and can’t have any more power over the company,” she sighs nervously, as she looks to him for his reaction.

He can feel his heart speed up at the prospect; never would he have thought that Gerri could be so cutthroat.

“We both considered going against him ourselves by giving evidence to solidify his case since no one is willing to come forward, but it would only implicate us and everyone else eventually. Frank has spoken to Karl though. Obviously he’s also facing possible charges, being the other name on the evidence that Kendall gave up to the press and authorities, but the plan would be to get Karl legal defence so that he can try and get a plea deal or no charges at all in exchange for giving up even more information about your dad, using some of the evidence I have stashed away.”

“Wait, I thought no one knew you had that evidence? You told fucking Frank?!”

“No, no. Are you crazy? No! I told him that I’ve heard from a source that someone might be able to get their hands on it and give it over for a fee. However, he doesn’t know that person is me and I wouldn’t take the fee. But the idea would be to pin it all on your dad, so that Karl doesn’t try and throw the rest of us under the bus to avoid prosecution, because he definitely would try. For that he would get a healthy severance package, leaving the company on his own accord, working alongside the authorities before he is even charged… hopefully”

“How do you know you can even trust Karl?” He asks as she sits down on the round bench sighing, he taking a seat next to her.

“I don’t trust Karl, which is why this is the only way to get him on side. He would need to sign an NDA or something to that effect,” she bites her lip, looking around to him.

He leans forward onto his knees, taking deep breath, his head hanging as he studies the ground below.

“We haven’t decided on whether to pull the trigger yet, but we have to act fast –.”

“We? What you and Frank?” He asks angrily, throwing her a look over his shoulder.

“No, Rome. You too. The three of us. I know you don’t like Frank but right now, we are the only ones each other can trust. I trust Frank and I trust you, and you trust me, don’t you?”

He sighs again, “yeah.”

“Then trust me when I tell you that Frank has been battered, bruised, and betrayed by Logan in Waystar more than you could ever know. Look at the last year alone and multiply that by his whole career. He knows what your dad is like and how bad he is for this company if we want to take it forward in any positive light. We may not be Roy’s, but we care about this company. It’s been our whole lives. Sometimes our only lives,” she pleads with him to understand.

“I get it,” he responds, his head hanging again.

“The charges against Karl and your dad will be coming out in a few days, I think. We need to act before that to try and fight for Karl to get a deal and your dad’s charges to be expanded so it will put him away.”

_She wants to touch him but knows she can’t. Wants to run a hand through his hair, down across his back but that would be fucking suicide to do that out in the public eye. The only reason she brought him here was because she couldn’t be sure Logan wasn’t spying on them in the office._

“What’s the alternative?”

“That your dad potentially gets away with it. Maybe a fine, suspended sentence. He has a lot of contacts in high places. I don’t know if a few pieces of paper would be enough to really put him away. So, if he gets away with it. He’ll maybe run things in the background for a while. We will need to run everything by him. He will tell us everything we are allowed to invest in whether it’s idiotic or not. He will allow all the sordid behaviour that has already happened to continue. The company won’t move any further on. And to be honest, Roman, I think he’s going to try and royally fuck me. I think he will encourage us to made bad decisions, that we have no push back on, so that they don’t work out but don’t sink the company in hopes that the shareholders and board beg him to come back and save us,” she tells him, biting her lip.

He sighs again, pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.

“I’m not here to talk you into it. I’m here to tell you the options. I know he’s your dad and that you love him. But I can’t say I disagreed with what Kendall said, Rome. Your dad was and still is a malignant presence. He set the standard for that kind of behaviour to be acceptable and anyone who disagreed could fuck right off to the unemployment line for being a fucking wimp. His business ideas were becoming stale as well. He was old school, unwilling to try new things to keep the company fresh and earning. He didn’t want ideas because he was so authoritarian, he thought he knew better than everyone. I thought Kendall would be different when he took over, but he had the façade of accepting ideas, but he still thought he knew best,” she pauses as he remains still, his eyes on the water cascading through the fountain as he listens to her.

“I want a different environment for this organisation, Rome. A place where ideas are welcome but can be denied after careful consideration and with an actual fucking reason provided, not just as a fucking power move. I want people to care about this company and want better for it. I want people to have respect for one another and where a morale booster isn’t a round of boar on the fucking floor. But that’s what I want. You need to decide what you want.”

She watches him as he sits back against the bench, her body swivelling to face him as he continues watching the water.

“You’re right. He’s toxic. The place is toxic. You were the first person who was willing to listen to my ideas without calling me a moron and definitely the only approachable person to bring an idea to. We need that. A change of culture. But sending my dad to prison? Fuck!” He says bending down again and running his hands through his hair.

“Can you think of any other way we can get rid of your dad from that company without any kind of repercussions? Because I would rather that option if it’s there,” she tells him sincerely.

“Geez. I don’t know, Gerri. I need to think about it.”

“Okay, honey,” she whispers, moving her hand up to touch his head, but quickly withdrawing it when she realises what she’s doing. He catches her in her peripheral, retracting her hand. “Fuck this is so frustrating,” she grounds out, clasping her hand in her lap tightly. “I’m sorry. I want to comfort you, but the fucking paparazzi could be anywhere.”

“Gerri,” he begins hesitantly, sitting back in the bench and looking at her seriously. “I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to get mad. Like remember the shit we talked about on the yacht. I need the reassurance.” His eyes plead with her to agree.

“Okay,” she offers softly, recalling the conversation they had had.

“Are you only with me to take over the company and overthrow my dad? I don’t want to like accuse you but I can hear my dad’s voice in my head telling me that’s the only reason you would possibly be with me, is as a tactic,” he asks, his voice hitching, his eyes wide with fear.

She smiles gently, ‘no, Rome. That’s not why I’m with you. I’m with you for all the reasons I said before, because you’re an annoying little shit who pulls at my heartstrings,” she laughs a little. “I’ve never lied to you and I’m not lying now. I truly care about you, honey,” she tells him resolutely with a smile.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, bending back over and taking deep breaths.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes.

*****

He’s lying on the couch in her office a few days later, his eyes are closed as she types furiously on her laptop at her desk; propping her head up with her hand as exhaustion seeps through her whilst she reads the document again.

They are due to go to London in two days to meet with Edwin Grantham and she wants to have everything completely solid before they leave. She had opted to stay late to get the document ready, trying to work out what the airline would be worth, and then how to get it at a cheaper price. He opts to stay with her, telling Karolina that he’s a useful asset but in reality, would rather spend a Saturday night listening to her typing than sitting in his apartment alone.

He opens his eyes, sitting up bleary eyed, taking in the dark offices, only a dim light covering the desks in the middle of the huge room on the other side of the glass. He looks at his watch realising it’s just after 2am, huffing knowing that they had to be back in here for 7am.

He looks around and takes in her drained form, her glasses perched on the end of her nose as her glassy, half closed eyes take in the document, whilst her usually pristine hair has several strands askew from their rightful place; a look Roman would perceive as actually really cute in any other situation, but in this one, worry.

“You need to stop and get some sleep,” he declares, looking at her as she looks up from her slumped position over the desk, still holding herself up.

“Huh?” She says, looking at her watch. “Fuck, is that the time?”

“Yeah,” he says swinging his legs around to face her.

She takes her glasses off, rubbing at her eyes hard, replacing the glasses back onto her face before saving the document and closing the laptop over.

“There isn’t even a point in going home at this rate by the time I get there. I might just sleep here. You can go if you like,” she offers, closing her eyes, her hands clasped in front of her mouth, stifling a yawn.

“Why don’t you just come to my apartment? It’s closer than yours?”

“No,” she protests, shaking her head. “You know we can’t do that.”

“Then, where are you going to sleep?”

“On a couch?” She suggests, shrugging her shoulders.

“Nah, I have an idea,” he bounces up, moving to her desk as she rolls her chair back from her desk, whilst he reaches over and grasps the corded phone on her desk, dialling a number and waiting for a response as he perches on the edge of the desk.

“Brian? Hey, how you doing buddy?... yeah, it’s been a while. Can you hook me up with the usual? Got one more coming though?... You’re the man. Thank you,” he says down the phone, before slamming it on the holder and gesturing to her with his head.

“Come on,” he coaxes. “Bring your purse and coat,” he directs, picking up his suit jacket.

“Rome, I’m not going to some guy Brian’s apartment or something if that’s what you’re thinking,” she says whilst striding behind him down the hallway.

“Don’t worry we aren’t leaving the building, and no one will see us,” he affirms, weaving through the halls.

_She’s so tired that she just blindly follows. Not even paying attention to where they are going._

Eventually they see a huge security guy, she assumes Brian, standing in front of a door with a keypad.

“Brian!” He shouts excitedly.

“Well Roman. It’s been a while since you’ve done this,” he chuckles, surprised to see Gerri behind him. “Ms Kellman,” he greets her, whilst she nods and smiles back, looking at the door marked ‘ _PRIVATE’_.

“Brian was my personal security until a few years back when he fucked up his knee,” Roman explains looking back at Gerri.

“Chasing you down the street when you were drunk may I add,” Brian quips as he types the code into the keypad, “it’s cool, John’s already in there.”

“Sweet,” Roman responds as he moves through the door, waving through the window at who she assumes is John.

_It’s all starting to make sense._

“Roman –,” she warns before the huge buzz jerks through her whole body, cutting off whatever thought she had previously planned on saying.

He walks in ahead as Brian steps aside, holding open the door for her.

Roman walks ahead of her, throwing his jacket onto the couch, spinning around and opening his arms up with a huge grin.

“It’s perfect isn’t it? I used to sleep in here all the time!”

“The panic room, Roman?” She asks him incredulously.

“Yeah! Don’t worry it’s bunk beds through there so it’s not like you need to sleep with me or anything,” he laughs, throwing Brian a wink.

“You fucking wish,” she hisses back, looking around, remembering the last time she was in here.

Brian looks flustered, staring at Gerri. Roman is completely aware that it’s her go ahead that Brian needs and she isn’t looking too certain. Roman notices this as Gerri looks around.

“Don’t worry. It was her idea,” Roman smiles at Brian.

“Thank you, Brian,” she smiles, aware that this is what the poor man is waiting for.

“Okay, I’m going to leave you to it. Just give me a call when you’re ready to leave. All the usual shi –,” Brian throws a look at Gerri panicked. “procedures apply,” Brian continues smiling before closing the door behind him.

“It has everything we need! Food, bathroom, bed!” He exclaims, pointing things out around the room.

“And how do we get out?” She asks, her eyes sceptical, as she places her coat and purse onto the couch.

“Oh, I just phone him, and he comes and lets us out,” he announces over his shoulder, moving to the table and grasping a chocolate bar.

“How many times have you done this?” She asks suspiciously, walking to the table to pick up a bottle of water and opening it.

“Dozens of times,” he waves her away as he throws a bit of broken chocolate into his mouth.

She yawns after she has the top back on her water.

“Come on,” he says putting an arm around her shoulder. “Bedtime.”

She hums as she follows him into the room, he stepping back to allow her to enter first.

“So obviously, you’re top bunk,” he looks at her flatly.

“I’m top bunk?! How the fuck am I top bunk? I can’t get up there,” she shouts pointing up to it.

“Fuck, I was kidding,” he laughs, pulling her into a hug, pushing her suit jacket off her shoulders as he pulls back, throwing it on the top bunk before leaning down and pulling back the covers on the bottom bunk.

“Roman, I can’t do games right now. I’m exhausted,” she says, leaning her head against his shoulder.

He strokes her back dutifully, “look feel free to tell me to fuck off but how about we snuggle, hmm? Might help you sleep a bit better?”

To his astonishment, she nods against his shoulder.

“Okay,” he whispers. “I’m genuinely not trying anything on here but are you wearing a slip or anything under that so you're more comfortable?”

“I’ll be fine,” she says as she sits on the bunk. “I’ll pull the skirt up,” she confirms, doing exactly that and passing him her glasses to put on the top bunk before she lies down.

“Set an alarm,” she orders him, as he pulls out his phone setting one, before throwing it onto the floor by the bed.

He slides the door to the little bedroom shut, before climbing in next to her.

“Scootch,” he says, as they awkwardly manoeuvre until he’s pressed up against her back as they face the wall, both of their bodies lying together as though replicating each other, whilst his arm is wrapped tightly around her body, her hand woven through his as she tightens their clasped hands into her chest.

“Hmmm. This was actually a good idea,” she whispers, turning her head slightly to find his lips in a quick peck.

“I told you I have good ideas,” he breaths, pecking back before she settles back in.

They lie silently for a moment before he pipes up again.

“Gerri,” he whispers.

“Mmm.”

“The thing with my dad and Karl. Just do it,” he says softly, tightening his hold around her.

Her eyes open in the darkness.

“You’re sure?” She strains to look back at him again.

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking of everything. How he’s given me so much etc. But I’ve also been thinking of how much harm he’s brought to me. The abuse. The insults. The *ahem* smacking me around,” he feels her wince against him, turning around completely to face him so she can stroke his back as she squeezes him tight.

“I don’t want his abuse to go anywhere else. Kendall was right. His reign is over. He fucked over every one of us. He has to go,” Roman whispers, running his hand up her back and pushing it through her hair.

“I’m sorry, Rome,” she says pressing her forehead against his before he moves in to give her what she could only describe as a loving kiss. His tongue slowly pushing her mouth open to delicately stroke hers, as he pulls her in tighter to him.

She pulls back, stroking the back of his head lightly.

“Get some sleep, okay?”

He nods, as she snuggles in closer to him, her head tight up against his neck as he settles his chin on top of her crown, both of them holding each other tightly.

They drift off quickly, having the best sleep either of them has had in a long while.


	3. Scenes from the Ritz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Gerri in italics.  
> Thoughts of Roman in bold.

“Good evening, this is the Ritz, London. How may I be of help to you this evening?” Roman hears the lilt of a pristine English accent on the other end of the phone.

“Oh, hello,” Roman begins with a faux posh voice. “I am flying into your establishment tomorrow evening with my colleagues and wanted to make an enquiry about the room,” he continues with his overly pronounced half English accent.

“Of course, sir. What name would the booking be under?”

“It would be rooms under Waystar Royco?”

“Hold on a moment and I will retrieve your booking… yes. You have two Executive suites and two Executive king rooms booked for two nights. Is that correct?”

“Yeah,” he loses his accent. “Here’s the thing… what’s your name?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Here’s the thing, Elizabeth. We have a really important meeting in London and it’s going to require us all to do a looot of work into the late hours. However, we have just been a part of a huge change of guard at our organisation which has attracted a lot of press,” he explains.

“I understand.”

“So, my two bosses, the CEO and the COO of the organisation have been getting hounded night and day at work and their apartments, and we don’t exactly know how badly they are going to get it in London. I’m going to level with you Elizabeth, what I’m trying to do here is make their life a little easier and minimise any chance of getting papped as they move between rooms while we work. So, what I’m asking for is whether you have any rooms with adjoining doors so that they can move freely between them, minimising the chances?”

“Well, first off sir, I can assure you that this hotel would never allow press within the hallways and our staff are under the strictest rules of keeping guest information completely confidential under their contracts.”

“Oh no! I’m not insulting your hotel! Merely trying to make the anxiety for my boss’s a little more alleviated in this already trying time.”

“Well sir, I’m afraid the we don’t have any adjoining Executive Suites. What we could offer would be the Royal suite? It is two levels, featuring a study, two dressing rooms, and two large marble bathrooms. It also comes with a 24-hour Ritz butler service.”

He stifles a laugh, holding his hand over his mouth, hoping that it stifles it a little then becoming serious as he thinks.

**Would Gerri be angry about changing their rooms to a large suite? The adjoining rooms was one thing but going in and out of the same door into a suite was a different story.**

“Is that entering through the same door, Elizabeth? That’s what we are trying to avoid here.”

“Yes. Uhm… we could offer the Prince of Wales suite, which is the penthouse. It has its own floor so no one would have reason to be up there? It comes with a private dining room, two bedrooms with marble en suite bathrooms, a fully fitted kitchen, and a sitting room? This can be adjoined to the Arlington suite allowing free movement between the two?”

“That sounds much better, Elizabeth. Thank you so much for your help. Can you book that, please? Ensure that Ms Kellman is booked into the Prince of Wales suite and Mr Roy into the Arlington suite. Both myself and the other assistant will be happy in your other two rooms. Thank you.”

“Yes, I can do that, no problem. Just to be clear though, the price different is vast. Is that acceptable?”

“Yeah. It’s fine,” Roman reassures.

**He’ll pay it out of his own money if it becomes an issue.**

He hears typing for a few more minutes until she speaks up.

“All right, that’s that booked up for you. Can I help you with anything else, sir?”

“Yeah, Elizabeth. Can you stick a note on this to say it’s an upgrade or something? I know it’s not but just… do that for me?”

“Ehm… sure?”

He hears brief typing again.

“Anything else, sir?”

“No, you’ve been _splendid_ , Elizabeth!”

“No problem. Enjoy your day, sir.”

“You too, Elizabeth.”

He hangs up the phone, grinning to himself.

_Even if the acquisition attempt fell through, at least it was shaping up to be a worth it visit now._

*****

They are pulling up to the Ritz the next day in the same car. She had been a bit moody throughout the entire flight. Not really interested in their usual bantering, rather enthralled, bordering obsessed with reviewing the facts and figures in her report for the meeting tomorrow.

When he got her for a moment alone on the flight, he had asked if she was all right, but she had shrugged him off citing tiredness and stress as the issue. He hoped that she would take a moment to chill out at some point tonight before they had to sleep, but he doubted she would with this attitude.

He stays out of her way for the rest of the flight, lying across the sofa to nap for a while, going through some facts and figures from the now previous version of her report that she had sent him last night.

It’s 8.30pm here as they leave the car into the reception and he’s absolutely starving.

“You okay?” He asks as she ascends slowly.

“Tired,” she says softly as they walk up the steps into the hotel.

“I’m starving. Do you want to grab some food from the restaurant before we go up?”

_She had hardly eaten all day. She was exhausted but she probably should if she wanted to have some energy for tomorrow._

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees as he holds the entrance door open for her.

“Want to just check in and go straight there?”

She nods as they walk towards the desk with both of their assistants.

“Sam, would you go grab us a table in the restaurant whilst we check in?”

He looks back at Roman, afraid, chancing a glance at Gerri who is too busy giving their name to the receptionist.

“You don’t need to eat with us, Sam. Just get us a table for just now,” Roman rolls his eyes.

Sam sighs in relief, looking around to Claire to see if she plans on going.

“I’m going up to my room. I ate on the plane,” she affirms, whilst Sam nods, skulking away.

“Yes, ma’am,” the polite receptionist directs at Gerri as he joins the conversation. He looks at her name tag. **_Elizabeth_.**

**So, this was Elizabeth. It was exactly what he expected. Someone who looked like Tabitha with a bit of Virgin Atlantic air hostess thrown in. Perfect make up, blonde hair scraped back and tall as fuck.**

Roman smiles at how spot on he was with the assumption, as Gerri glares at him out the corner of her eye. His expression changing immediately to confusion.

“What?”

“Aren’t you listening? One of the rooms has been upgraded to the Prince of Wales suite,” she narrows her eyes at him suspiciously.

“The Prince of Wales suite?” He asks the receptionist, his voice raising in pitch. “What’s that? Sounds fun.”

The receptionist looks at him suspiciously also, potentially recognising his voice.

“It’s… uhm… our best suite. Penthouse with private dining room, two bedrooms with marble en suite bathrooms, a fully fitted kitchen, and a sitting room,” she mainly directs at Gerri.

“I’m only one person. Why would I be upgr –,” Gerri begins when he cuts her off.

“Gerri, don’t look a free upgrade in the mouth,” he smiles at her then back at the receptionist. “Thank you I think is what she’s trying to say. Which one is the Prince of Wales again? The queens husband?”

“Uhm… no. That’s Duke of Edinburgh. The Prince of Wales is Prince Charles. The queen’s son,” the receptionist affirms whilst she moves to get key cards together.

“Prince Charles,” he hums. “Has he stayed here then? With Camilla?” He asks, a pointed look at Gerri complete with a smirk.

“No, because they live in the big house down the road. You might have heard of it? Buckingham Palace,” the receptionist jests with him.

Gerri can’t help the scoff that comes out as she smirks at Roman.

_Well done to the girl. A solid hit._

He gives a little fake laugh, rolling his eyes.

“No, it used to be the private chambers of former British Prime Minister Lord Pelham in an 18th century mansion which is now the main part of this hotel,” the receptionist explains politely as she places the cards on the desk. 

“Ahhh,” Roman gives, no longer willing to banter with her after her sassiness.

“Here are the key cards for the two executive king rooms,” Elizabeth passes over to them.

“Thank you,” Gerri says taking them and passing both to Claire.

“And the key cards to both of your suites,” Elizabeth hands over to both of them.

“Is it possible to have the bags put upstairs whilst we go for dinner?” Roman asks.

“Of course, but there is also an option of private dining in your suite, Ms Kellman. If you are looking to avoid potential eyes, there is the dining room in your suite with a butler to serve?” Elizabeth offers confused.

Gerri scoffs completely astounded.

“A butler?” She chokes out.

**Thank fuck that’s the bit she focussed on.**

“Yes, ma’am. It comes complete with a 24 hour butler service.”

Roman chuckles, watching the shock on Gerri’s face.

“Well if you’re tired, we can eat in _your dining room_ , and then it means we can get some work done whilst we wait without all the noise,” he smiles.

“Uhm…,” she looks around, unsure whether this is a wise decision, watching as he raises his eyebrows at her.

_She supposes she has been in Logan’s suite a thousand times and he didn’t care if anyone batted an eyelid._

“Yeah. That’s fine. How does that work then? We just order down or?”

“No, the butler will be there to see if you need anything and can arrange your meal for you once the hall porter helps take your luggage up,” she informs them, gesturing to the porter waiting behind them.

“Oh, okay. Uhm… Claire can you handle anything else they need then?” She turns around looking at her assistant, who nods and takes over as the porter smiles leading them to the elevator.

“Can you tell Sam we don’t need the reservation?” He shouts to Claire, receiving a nod in return again.

“Are we on the same floor then?” She asks the porter when they are in the elevator as it begins to move, noticing he’s only pressed one button.

“Uhm… yes ma’am,” he responds a little confused.

She shakes her head, giving Roman a side eye, whilst he looks up at the interesting pattern on the ceiling above them.

“It’s so cool here,” is all he offers.

Once they are at their floor, the porter leads them to the only door available in the small hallway.

“Just in here if one of you wants to hit your key card,” the porter smiles, standing back. Roman himself confused also.

**Had she not said there would be separate entrances?**

“One of us?” She asks as Roman leans over, pressing his key card against the pad next to the door.

He walks in first, looking at the small foyer area.

“Sorry, I think there is some confusion,” she directs to the porter when she enters the small foyer. “We are supposed to be in separate rooms?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mr Roy is in the Arlington suite to the left, whilst you, Ms Kellman will be in the Prince of Wales suite to the right,” he gestures to both doors on either side.

“Oh,” Roman pipes up. “So, we have the same entrance?” He asks for confirmation, genuinely confused.

**This isn’t what he agreed to.**

“Yes, sir. Your suite is adjoined onto Ms Kellman’s through this foyer. But there are locks on both of the doors so you can’t enter each other’s rooms… unless invited,” he adds at the end with a small laugh.

“Okay. Thank you,” she grits out, moving towards her room as Roman awkwardly drifts over to his own, whilst the porter follows Gerri with her luggage.

“I will be over in a minute for dinner, yeah?”

“Uhu,” she throws over her shoulder as she smiles awkwardly at the porter.

He looks around his room, taking in the large living room, completed with a bathroom, then drifting into the bedroom also including an en suite, when he hears a knock on his door.

“Your luggage, sir?” The porter offers at the open door.

“Yeah, just uhm… stick it in here,” Roman says, gesturing to his bedroom.

“Ehm… I don’t have any cash on me,” Roman strains awkwardly, clenching his jaw.

“It’s all right. Ms Kellman said you wouldn’t so tipped me for both of you,” he smiles, Roman laughing at how well she knows him.

“Would you like a tour?”

“Uhm… living room and bedroom. I think I got it. Thank you though,” he smiles awkwardly.

“Okay, sir. Can I get you anything else?”

“No thanks, man,” he says following the porter out of his room and waiting until the porter leaves the foyer before running and quickly knocking on Gerri’s door.

She opens it eventually, her face like thunder.

“I didn’t know,” he professes quickly, before she purses her lips and turns on her heel.

“I swear, Gerri,” he whines, following her.

“You didn’t know that we would be more or less in the same room?” She asks walking into the living room, sitting on the couch and removing her heels.

“Well… okay. Look,” he begins, as she raises her eyebrows at him, her tongue pressing into her cheek.

“I phoned up yesterday,” he continues, but she interrupts him.

“Fuck, Roman,” she sighs despondently, bringing her hands up to cover her eyes.

“No, no! I didn’t do anything! I phoned and I spoke to that girl at the reception. I asked her for a room with adjoining doors! I pretended to be fucking Sam and told her we just had a lot of paparazzi hounding us and didn’t want any chance at a pap in the halls, so we just needed easier movement between rooms to work. She told me that it was only this suite that was adjoining but I’m sure she said it was separate entrances. I swear, Gerri! I would have just left it if I knew it was the same entrance! She even offered me the fucking Royal suite or whatever first with like two floors and I said no because it was the same entrance!”

“Roman, you can’t just fucking do things like this,” she replies angrily. “We already have enough eyes on us without putting ourselves at risk with shit like this!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I genuinely didn’t know,” he says pathetically.

“And how much did this even cost, Roman?” She asks standing up and padding through the suite in her stocking clad feet. “I mean a fucking dining room,” she points as she walks past it, moving towards the next door. “Two fucking bedrooms!” She points out, walking into the bigger bedroom and standing next to the bed. “We would have been as well staying in the same fucking suite instead of paying for both if we were going to take a risk like this. It isn’t our money. It’s the company’s money, Roman. It looks bad!” She turns to look at him completely frustrated.

“I know. I’m sorry. I will go down and speak to them and tell them that I will pay for it. I will just tell them that we didn’t need so much room. I can even see if we can bow out of the Arlington room and just stay in the Prince of Wales suite since there is an extra bedroom?”

She looks at him pointedly.

“Or I can see if I can move into a different suite. Hell, I will even move into a fucking broom closet. I’m sorry, Gerri,” he pleads desperately.

She brings her hand up to stroke her forehead.

“It’s done now. We need to commit to it. I think the porter knows anyway from my clearly fucking shocked reaction that this shouldn’t have happened. We can blame it on Sam if it ever becomes a thing. Say it was youthful incompetence,” she stares at him with her eyes bulging.

**He knows she means him and it fucking stings.**

“I don’t think it will backfire. I watched this YouTube video before we came, and it was saying that all these celebrities like Anna Wintour come here because it’s so private and anonymous. I think because the Ritz is so notorious, they are super careful about that shit because people bigger than us must have done seedier shit than this.”

She huffs again, running her hand through her hair as she takes a deep breath in.

“I was just trying to take an opportunity to see you and be with you. I honestly didn’t think it was going to end up like this. All I wanted was a fucking adjoining door for fuck sake.”

“Well instead we ended up with a full apartment that could house ten people!” She looks up, throwing her hands wide to gesture to the room.

“I’m sorry. What else do you want me to say?” He knows he’s whining as he grasps his shirt at his chest.

She huffs looking at the floor.

_She feels bad but she’s exhausted and this was the last thing she needed. It was slip ups like this that led to CEOs getting fired. She can’t stop the anger building up in her at everything accumulating from the last few weeks. The late nights, the lack of sleep, Logan trying to fuck her, pushing herself to try and prove him wrong, the conspiracy to fuck Logan right back. Now a stupid mishap like this. It was all becoming too much._

“Sorry isn’t good enough, Roman! After everything we have been trying to fight for here; a stupid slip up like this could get us both fired. Stop thinking with your dick! Start being more mature and use some fucking common sense!” She shouts, marching around the bed and picking up her suitcase.

He stares at her completely gobsmacked.

**This isn’t the usual insults that would get him hard. She means these ones. Is that what she really thought of him? That he was just trying to fuck her when he actually just wanted to be with her? She thought that he was immature and didn’t have common sense? He genuinely thought she believed in him. Apparently not.**

“Wow. You can really be such a fucking bitch,” he breathes, turning on his heel and walking out.

She watches him walk away, “Roman,” she shouts but the door slams behind him.

She closes her eyes, plopping onto the bed as she sighs.

_Fuck._

*****

He storms into his suite, locking the door behind him as he strides into the bedroom, pacing around the room.

**Is that what she really thought? That he was incompetent? Immature? No common sense? Thinking with his dick? Fuck, he was so stupid. She obviously didn’t think about him what he thought she did. He thought she believed in him. That she cared about him. Why the fuck did he believe that anyone gave a shit about him? He knew he was a piece of shit. No one would ever give a shit about him. His dad. His mom. The au pairs. His siblings. The girls he had dated through the years. None of them. And now Gerri. Maybe she had been just using him to get to his dad. No, Gerri wouldn’t do _that_. He doesn’t blame her for thinking he’s immature. He’s been accused of that his whole life. No one ever taking him seriously because of it. He had tried but when people didn’t listen, he just played up to it. He thought she had seen him trying though, trying to be better, leaving that shit behind him. He genuinely didn’t fucking know about the room or he never would have agreed to it. Did she not want to be with him then? Did she not want to try and spend any time with him? He obviously felt more about this relationship than she did. Maybe he should back off a bit. This is what his therapist was talking about. He goes in too hard, too quick, becoming too clingy which gets people annoyed, causing them to get sick of him. He thought he was just trying to get a little time with her alone since the only chance they had with that was the few hours in the bunker. They had spent a lot of time in work together though. He just thought she would want some time not talking about fucking business plans and acquisitions. But, that’s obviously what’s happened here. She doesn’t want to spend time with him and that’s fine. He would just keep to himself. But he can’t deny it fucking hurts. He really had been excited about where this could have gone with Gerri. He should have known better that nothing ever fucking goes well for him. **

He begins to get undressed, preparing to just go to bed when there is a knock at the door. He goes to open it until he realises it could be her. He hesitates, standing by the door, then looking through the fisheye sees that it’s a random guy. He unlocks the door, opening it, and peeking his head around it.

“Good evening, sir. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jonathan, your personal butler. I just wanted to see if I could get you anything,” he offers.

“No, I’m good thanks,” he responds about to close the door.

“Okay, sir. If I can get you anything, just press 1 on the telephone at any time.”

“Uh… thanks,” he says, closing the door firmly and walking back to the bedroom.

He drops his pants to the floor, getting his charger out of his suitcase and fiddling with the adaptor before plugging it into the wall behind the bedside table.

He settles in the bed, lying on his back staring at the ceiling.

**How the fuck was he going to get through this meeting tomorrow when they had this looming over them. He was starting to understand the notification clause and why people had an issue with relationships at work.**

He turns onto his side, trying to think of literally anything else; shifting again after five minutes when he can’t get his mind off it.

He hears his phone vibrating on the table, turning away from it to ignore it.

**He’s sure it’s her. He doesn’t want to hear from her right now. Probably some lame assed apology. Or more abuse. Either way he doesn’t want to know.**

He closes his eyes, breathing out for a moment, trying to think of anything that would send him to sleep. But it doesn’t last long before he turns back around and looks at the phone on the bedside table.

**Fuck it.**

He picks it up, looking at the message on the lock screen.

**_Gerri:_ **

**_Are you not having dinner?_ **

**Am I not having dinner? Fuck you. Not even a fucking apology? Fucking bitch.**

He turns back over on his side, wiping his eyes quickly as tears form.

**He’s not going to cry like a big fucking baby over this.**

He closes his eyes, taking the pillow next to him and hugging it closely as he drifts off to sleep.

*****

She tidily puts all of her clothes away as soon as she takes a moment to breathe after the door slams behind him. She tries not to think about what had happened, too stubborn to go over it repeatedly in her mind; trying to block it from her thoughts.

_She needs to focus on this fucking meeting tomorrow, not Roman taking a childish tantrum. He would come around once he had taken a moment to calm down. Wouldn’t he? No, she needs to look at that report again, make sure that she can more or less rhyme it off if she had to. Age had made it a little more difficult to memorise 75-page documents as much as it pains her to admit it._

She removes the laptop from its designated bag, picking up her phone and noticing no notifications but as she is about to walk down to the living room, there is a knock at the door.

_She knew he wouldn’t last long._

However, when she opens the door, she’s shocked to see a man around his age with black hair and a full tuxedo.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he begins. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jonathan, your personal butler. I just wanted to see if I could get you anything,” he smiles greatly.

“Uhm… yes. We were looking to order dinner. The girl at the reception desk said that I could have it in the dining room here?”

“Yes, of course. May I?” He asks, gesturing into her suite.

“Yeah, sure,” she steps back, holding the door, still balancing her laptop under her arm.

He leads the way down to the living room, opening a drawer in one of the large wooden desks, whilst she follows, placing her laptop down on the coffee table as he hands her a menu.

“Here is the dinner menu. We can provide anything there for you. If you would like anything different, we do have other menus,” he smiles, his hands firmly clasped behind his back as she takes the menu.

“Uh…,” she sighs, her eyes darting through the limited contents.

_Not one fucking salad._

“The beef is fine. Rare, please,” she smiles awkwardly, handing the menu back.

“No starter? Or dessert?” He asks, taking it off her.

“No. That will do, thank you.”

“Any drinks? We do have a bar just there, but can I get you anything from the menu?”

“Uhm… whatever wine goes nicely with the beef. You can choose,” she nods with a strained smile.

“Very good, ma’am,” he smiles greatly, placing the menu back in drawer, beginning to walk back out of the suite.

“Ehm,” she stops him, as he turns around to face her at the living room door. “You may want to knock on Mr Roy’s door and ask him what he wants also. He should be here for dinner at any minute.”

“I already did, ma’am. He declined any services,” he smiles again.

_Why was that smile becoming so annoying? Why wasn’t he ordering dinner?_

“No problem. Thank you, Jonathan,” she smiles, a little embarrassed at being publicly stood up, turning away for him as he turns around and leaves, the door to the suite closing behind him.

She stands in the middle of the room for a moment, her hands on her hips, chewing her lip as she considers what was going on.

_She had been a little harsh. That she knew. But could he not see that he had acted so rashly that it could easily have led to rumours and cost them both their job. Not to mention the expense of this room on the company dime?_

_She can’t think of all this right now. She needs to get back to work._

She sits down at her laptop, opening it up, fighting to get the Wi-Fi connected and then responding to an email quickly. She looks at her phone; clicking the lock button to see if she had anything from him.

_Nothing._

She twitches her neck from side to side, looking back at her laptop, reading a sentence or two, then back at the phone again.

_He really should eat. He said before that he was starving._

She opens the phone, moving straight to her messages, and selecting his name.

_Still nothing? Not even typing._

She tries to think of what she should say.

_Sorry?_

_Stop being an idiot and come and eat?_

_I didn’t mean what I said?_

She shakes her head, typing vigorously and sending the message.

She stares down at the letters.

**_Are you not having dinner?_ **

_Was it too harsh? Should she have said more? Should she have been more commanding and put all this behind them?_

She shakes her head again, turning the phone over and puffing, before she opens the document and starts to finally concentrate on her work.

*****

When dinner arrives, she settles herself at the head of the six-seater table as the butler sets her beef in front of her, pours a little bit of red wine into the crystal glass from a bottle, waiting for her to take sip and approve of it. He does tell her what it’s called but it was all French and she’s quite honestly uninterested.

 _It was beautiful_.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she offers, as he fills the remainder of her glass, settling the bottle down on a tray on the cabinet at the side, whilst she picks up her cutlery. It is only then she realises she hears no movement behind her anymore, she looks around to see him standing to attention behind her, staring at the wall ahead with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Oh no,” she laughs a little, settling her cutlery down, and then turning back to wave at him. “No, you don’t need to stay here. Please go and relax. I’m good now.”

_Like fuck was she going to sit in a silent room eating her dinner with an actual human being standing in mute behind her. She doesn’t understand how anyone could do that._

“But ma’am, I’ve to stay here to ensure everything is appropriate. Fill your wine if you need it,” he explains.

“Honestly Jonathan, I can pour the drink myself. Don’t worry about me. I will give you a call when I’m finished, all right?”

“As you wish, ma’am. Do you at least want me to wait until you have deemed the beef appropriate?”

She sighs, offering another forced smile as she turns around and cuts into the beef, taking a small piece and eating it.

_Fuccck. That’s good._

“It’s brilliant,” she turns to him smiling after she swallows.

“Excellent. You just need to press 1 on the telephone if you need anything or if you want me to collect it when you’re finished,” he smiles, waiting.

“Thank you,” she offers, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip.

He walks out of the room quietly, only the light sound of the door closing confirming he has left.

She sighs, running the pad of her thumb across the crystal pattern down the stem of the wine glass, looking up and around the room.

_It’s so quiet._

She picks up the cutlery again, tearing into the beef, and slipping it into her mouth.

_She doesn’t remember it being so quiet._

She looks up at the ceiling as she chews, taking in the painting above the fireplace.

_Not something she would go for but… nice._

She brings the wine glass back to her lips, taking a sip.

_For such an expensive suite in one of the most famous hotels in the world, it really was an ugly room. The wallpaper is striped blue and cream with the most horrible looking drapes over the window. Horrible blue things with pink flowers across it. If Roman were here, he would note how they looked like the fabric from a horrible dress worn by one of the girls on ‘Little House on the Prairie’._

She smirks at the thought of it, placing her wine glass back down.

_She misses him. The room is too silent; deafening. If he were here, he would be ripping this room to shreds and she would be laughing, attempting not to spit her wine out. Just the thought of him only 20 feet away instead of here with her made her feel like shit._

She turns her phone over on the table, seeing no notifications from him still. She even unlocks the phone, opening up the messages, ensuring that there was nothing there, double checking her message sent.

She sighs again, locking it and turning back over as she eats the rest of her meal, the deafening silence driving her insane.

After she drains the bottle and calls Jonathan to collect her plate, bidding him goodnight and locking the door behind him, she determines that she’s too exhausted to continue looking at the document anymore; needing a good night’s sleep for tomorrow’s meeting. She pads into the bedroom, changing into her pyjamas.

 _Her pantsuit pyjamas_. She smiles at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, looking down at the black pantsuit she’s wearing as she picks up her toothbrush and begins brushing her teeth. Once she’s finished, she goes back into the bedroom, picking up her phone again and checking it.

_Still no notifications._

She plugs the phone into the charger she had set up earlier, placing her glasses on the bedside table and climbing into the extremely comfortable bed, turning off the lamp and sinking her head into the feathered pillow.

_She had been too harsh. She had. She’d been an asshole. She was just worried. She didn’t want this to be fucked up for them both because of something stupid. It was one thing to be fired because she was a shit CEO but the failure to adhere to a notification clause in a consensual relationship would be a shitty way to go. However, she can’t get the look on his face when she had said it out of her head. He had looked so wounded. She had seen that look before. But it was designated to when he was on the receiving end of Logan. When he had been called a moron in front of everyone in Austria. When he had shown up at her door in Argestes after being struck. She couldn’t be the reason for that look. She couldn’t become Logan. She had been on the receiving end of that for so many years and she didn’t want to become it because of a fucking stressful job._

She opens her eyes and picks up her phone, opening their conversation and typing before sending.

**_Are you awake?_ **

She places the phone on her stomach as she waits for a response.

_She had been a fucking bitch. He was absolutely right. He had just been trying to be sweet. They hadn’t had any time together since the yacht and she had told him that she wanted to explore this. She does want to explore it and this fucking publicity had been limiting on the ability to do that. The only time they had really had together was in the bunker and that had probably been the highlight of the past two weeks if she thought of it. That and his nightly phone calls, particularly the phone sex. When she thinks about it, every light moment she had had in the past few weeks had involved him. She does believe that he didn’t realise that it was a joint entrance to the suite though he should have confirmed it properly. She had to apologise to him. He hadn’t deserved it because she was stressed out and tired._

She looks down at the phone again, unlocking it and looking at the conversation, seeing that there was still no response, double checking it had sent.

 _What if he wanted to end it with her? What if she had gone to far?_ That thought alone is panicking. _He had told her explicitly that he struggled with Borderline and the fear of abandonment could be overwhelming. What if he thought she was abandoning him because of it? What if he was beating himself up over her shitty insults? She knew he already had a negative self-image, but he seemed to be getting a little better with it. Had she just fucked that up like all the other assholes in his life often did? He had never mentioned it, but she had read so much about the erratic behaviour that could come from that with Borderline. Like binge drinking and self-harming. What if he had done something stupid?_

That does it, because she throws her covers off her, quickly getting out of bed and taking her phone with her.

She unlocks her door and walks barefoot across the small foyer, heading towards his door. She hesitates at his door, knocking gently, and then pressing her ear to it, straining to hear through its unnatural thickness.

She looks down at her phone again.

_What if he was just sleeping?_

She looks back to the door again, pressing her ear to it.

_What if he wasn’t fucking sleeping and don’t something stupid?_

She tries the door handle, pushing it down and realising that it’s open as she tries to catch her bearings in the dark, unfamiliar suite.

She turns the light on in the small foyer, closing his door behind her and moving to the room in front of her, reaching for any kind of light, as it reveals a living room.

“Roman?” she asks as she walks through the room, heading to the other door, revealing the bathroom to be empty. She walks out of the room, trying the next door.

As she opens the door, the light shines progressively onto a bulging form in the bed, facing away from her.

“Roman?” she whispers, moving further into the room, her hand still on the door handle.

_Her heart is beating out of her chest; she’s afraid of what she might find._

“Roman?” she asks more loudly, as she watches him groan and turn towards her.

She clutches her chest, huffing loudly in relief.

“Gerri?” he asks sleepily.

“Roman, you fucking idiot. Why didn’t you answer my texts?” She closes the door behind her, a tear rolling down her eye which she swipes away quickly, walking towards the bed and placing her phone on the bedside table.

**What the fuck? What texts?**

“I was asleep,” he groans, his eyes bleary attempting to adjust back from the shining light from the hallway to the darkness of the room again. Trying to focus on the form now pulling back his covers and getting into his bed, the memories of earlier flooding back.

“You fucking idiot,” she mutters worriedly, as she leans over him, grasping his face between her hands and pressing a hard kiss onto his lips. He responds instinctually, his hand coming up to the satin at her waist, as she pulls back.

“I was worried about you. Don’t fucking do that to me,” she grits out, pressing her forehead to his, the pads of her fingers pressing along his jaw as she continues to hover over him.

“I was fucking sleeping,” he protests with a high-pitched voice, though he can’t help his own fingers pressing into the flesh on her back.

She sighs again, her eyes tight shut, her breath blowing against his mouth as his other hand comes up to the back of her head to run through her hair.

**How can he never resist Gerri? Even when she was being a fucking bitch. Just her touch, her smell was so calming.**

“Where’s your glasses?” He whispers.

“Forgot them,” she answers quietly.

He smiles as she pecks her lips to his quickly again, withdrawing just as quickly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

**He thinks about it. He was hurt but he had overreacted earlier; his mind doing what it usually does and running away with itself. The sleep has given a lot of the rationality he needed. She had come to him. She’s here in his bed, kissing him, apologising, so she clearly wanted something from this. It was his shitty fucked up mind that made him think different before. Holy shit was this him growing?**

“It’s okay,” he says after a short silence, rubbing his hand up her back firmly.

“No,” she starts the hovering straining her back, moving herself to settle against his chest, burying her head in his neck. “It’s not okay. You’re right I was a fucking bitch.”

“I was angry –,” he begins but is cut off.

“No, you were right. I’m stressed and tired, and I took it out on you and that wasn’t fair,” she kisses his neck, tightening her hold around him as she presses into him, twining her legs around his.

“No, I should have been more careful. I know how much pressure my dad is putting on you and something stupid like that could fuck up the whole thing,” he whispers as he threads his fingers through her hair.

“That’s not an excuse. I don’t want to be like him. I don’t want to hurt you because I’ve got the job that makes your brain explode,” she explains.

“You’re nothing like him.”

“I was just freaked out. I’m being overly cautious, I know that. I know I’m constantly wired at the moment. I just don’t want everything to go to shit under my command; it was different when I was just Legal Counsel. I don’t want to fuck it up for both of us over a stupid fucking clause, instead of being a shitty CEO.”

“You’re not a shitty CEO. You’re brilliant, Kellman. And I will be careful, extra careful. I promise. I just wanted to spend a little time with you, and this was the first opportunity I could see. I miss being with you like this,” he whispers, his finger running across the exposed skin at her lower back from her shirt riding up a little.

“I miss it too, Rome,” she pulls back from his neck, kissing him deeply again, running her hand over his hairline. She pulls back, continuing kisses down his cheek to his jaw, attacking his pulse point. “I realised the only relief I’ve had this past few weeks has been with you. Lying in that tiny bunk bed, secret kisses in the south tank, your nightly phone calls, every joke in a meeting. Every laugh has been because of you.”

“Gerri,” he breathes; her words and her touches getting to him.

She feels his growing erection against her thigh, her leg moving back and forth to stroke firmly against it.

“I want this, Roman,” she whispers next to his ear. “I need you so much. More than I even realised.”

He moves his head to the side as she looks back to him, before he invades her mouth, pushing against her hard as she moans against his tongue, falling back against the bed as he mounts her. She grasps his neck, curling her leg around his thigh which is pressed hard into her centre, as he gyrates hard against her. She moans into his mouth, pushing her chest up into his to feel him closer, the wine encouraging her boldness.

He pulls away from her, jumping up quickly to his knees, moving his legs so he’s kneeling between her thighs, grasping at the band of her pyjama bottoms as she starts unbuttoning her shirt, both of them breathing raggedly.

“I thought something had happened to you when you didn’t respond,” she divulges, as he pulls the pants midway down her thighs, lifting under her knees and ducking under them so he can balance them mid air as he rips them down her calves. “I was worried sick,” she whispers, undoing the last button and pulling open her shirt.

“Nothing to be worried about,” he whispers, throwing the pants behind him and lifting one of her legs to duck back under, crouching down to press his lips to the back of her thigh as they part for him, his teeth grazing her skin as they fall back down to the bed.

“Take them off,” she orders as she sits up, her legs on either side of him, removing her shirt and throwing it to the side as he pushes his pants down to his knees, falling onto his side as he struggles to slide them down his calves.

“I didn’t mean what I said. I really didn’t. I was just angry. It was really sweet what you were trying to do, I know that,” she pants as she watches him kneel back up between her legs and move towards her.

“It was stupid,” he leans forward, kissing her again heatedly again as they collectively fall back into the pillows, running his hands down her sides, sliding his tongue across hers and then moving down to her jaw.

“No, it was necessary,” she breathes, grazing her nails against the back of his neck, running her foot along his calf. “I needed this just as much as you did. If you were thinking with your dick, then I’m thankful for it.”

“This wasn’t even part of my plan. I just wanted to kiss you, maybe chance falling asleep spooning you. I know you’ve been exhausted. I wasn’t expecting that,” he murmurs against her neck.

Her eyes roll into the back of her head at that, her pelvis rising up to graze against him.

_Why was his care, sincerity, and thoughtfulness such a fucking TURN ON?_

She pushes his shoulder, flipping him over, and straddling him as she attacks his mouth this time.

“You’re fucking brilliant, do you know that? Better than anyone knows,” she heaves when she can’t breathe anymore, her centre grinding hard against his erection.

“Gerri,” he breathes. “You’re driving me crazy.”

She reaches her hand down between them, grasping his dick and stroking against it firmly, earning an appreciative moan from his lips as she kisses him again, his hands running over her hips.

She moves him so he’s at her entrance, knowing she is ready, she sinks down onto him, gasping into his mouth as he tightens his grip on her.

“I’m not going to last long,” he whispers against her mouth as she grins, biting at his lip.

“You let go whenever you have to,” she whispers as she begins rocking her hips back and forth, sitting up straight with her hands sprawled out over his chest.

“Yessss,” he hisses, moving his hips in unison up into her.

“Does that feel good?” She asks him, running the tips of her fingers up and down his sides, across his pecks, feeling the muscles on his stomach.

“Fuck yeah, Gerri,” he grunts, as she quickens her pace, him matching it easily, whilst he moves his hand from her hip, strolling to her centre to rub against her clit, her head falling back in pleasure at the sensation.

She looks back down to him, noticing the concentration on his face as he tries to please her, whilst holding back his own pleasure until she’s satisfied.

_How many times had she had sex and even made love with a man who didn’t give a shit if she was pleased or not? Even Baird half the time didn’t even consider that she might not be getting much out of some of their encounters. Yet here he was once again. He who didn’t think he could have normo sex. He who was always labelled as the selfish party boy, proving the bullshit wrong again._

“You’re not an immature little dickwad, Roman. You’re a completely loving and sensitive man,” she grunts, the passion ready to burst within her. “And I’m so fucking lucky.”

He moans deeply at that, his eyes shooting open to look at her riding him.

_He thinks he fucking loves her. He knows he fucking loves her._

He removes a hand from her clit, running it up her stomach, grazing her breast, earning a gasp from her as she leans forward making it easier for him, whilst he continues his exploration up to her neck.

“C’mere,” he breathes, pulling at the back of her neck so she can come down to meet his lips fiercely. The new angle allowing him to hit that spot within her deliciously.

He can feel he’s just about to go over the edge as he kisses her, roaring as she pulls back pressing her hand against the headboard behind him to push down harder onto him, her other hand threading through his and pushing it hard into the bed next to his head.

“Fuck Gerri,” he moans as he spills into her, her tumbling down right behind him with a loud gasp as their movements become more erratic.

“Rome. Oh my god,” she shouts, moaning as she continues grinding hard onto him, her orgasm hitting her solidly as all the hunger and passion within her begins to seep away into a completely cool and languid feeling within her.

She falls against his chest, as she continues throbbing around him, their chest pressed together heaving as he pushes her damp hair out of her face, her grin pressing against his as they half giggle and half kiss.

“I’m truly sorry for earlier,” she pecks again, pushing his hair back from his face too, stroking the skin around his forehead and down to his ears, as she presses her chest tighter against him.

“It’s okay. You’re forgiven,” he kisses back, deepening it a little, before pulling back, grazing his hands up her sides.

“You mean so much to me, do you know that?” She whispers against his lips, pecking between words.

“I doubted it for a minute there,” he admits, running his hands down her bare back now.

“Never doubt it, honey. Never,” she breathes, offering a final peck before moving her hips so he can pull out, shifting slightly to the side so she can lie against him, her head buried in his neck, her hand trailing his chest, as her leg drapes over his.

“Gerri,” he whispers.

“Mhm,” her eyes closed, her nails trailing against his ribs.

**He’s nervous. He even looked up on Google last week about when you should say it. Some article gave all these suggestions about what to stay instead. But this other one said that you should say it when you are ready to shout it from the rooftops and he would, happily do that right now if she would let him. It said that his feelings were valid so if that’s what he felt then he should say it and be prepared that it was okay if she wasn’t at that point.**

“It’s probably too early and my therapist told me not to do it too early, but this article said my feelings are legitimate, so I just wanted to tell you, that I think I love you,” he waffles nervously, his voice cracking, his hand shaking against her back, his heart beating rapidly.

She feels it all, her trailing against his chest never ceasing. She grins against his neck, she breathes out, her breath tickling him.

“Love you too, Rome,” she murmurs sleepily, pecking his neck.

**That was it? It was that simple? She loved him too? She had said it so easily, so carefree and here he was a big bag of fucking nerves.**

“Really?” He whispers innocently.

She sighs, grinning, nodding into his neck. “Yeah.”

_She knows she loves him, cares about him. It might not be the heart bursting absolutely head over heels in love yet, though it felt like she was heading that way. She imagines a woman of her age wouldn’t feel love in the same way she used to when she was twenty. Girls in their twenties were giddy, all-encompassing, overly passionate in the love they felt. Stability, caring, and companionship is what she imagined a woman of her age would consider love. But it was more than that. It was all of that._

_She knows its love. She cares about him, wants him around, needs him when he isn’t there, feels important and attractive under his eye, feels taken care of, thinks about him when she isn’t thinking about work, trusts him implicitly, feels so much lust and passion when she’s with him. It wasn’t a typical relationship, but since when has she had a typical relationship? She considered that she had never really spent a lot of time with him outside of work, but that would come, she suspects just as easily as their repertoire had become in work, and the lack of that didn’t mean she doesn’t love him. It’s the brightening of her day he brings, his care and consideration for her when she’s exhausted, when he listens to her and hangs off her every word as though it were gospel, his want of her presence and physicality also. And she knows she cares for him. She wants to see him succeed, wants to see him happy, to see him smile and laugh, to soothe him when he’s hurt or anxious, to care for him when he needs her, to give him everything he needs to better himself, to be by his side as he achieves it. They had spent so much time together; building trust, respect, passion, repartee, fun, validation, intimacy, and compassion. A real team. Rockstar and the Molewoman. And if that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was._

“Fuck,” he whispers surprised, with the biggest grin on his face.


	4. Scenes from an Acquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerris thoughts in italics.  
> Romans thoughts in bold.

He wakes up to an alarm behind him, her warm skin wrapped around him from behind, her breath on his neck, and a groan now coming from her mouth. He sighs, twisting towards her as she lies onto her back, removing her arm from around him, and throwing it across her eyes with a deep sigh. His eyes are fuzzy, sleep still so inviting, but he smiles a little as the covers fall to expose her chest, the freckles still present across it.

He semi-climbs on top of her, reaching across to grab her phone, stopping the increasingly irritating alarm, before looking at the time, whilst she moves her arm up over her head to rest on the pillow, peaking at him through one eye.

“5.30am, Gerri,” he groans, his body falling on top of her, she gasping as he thuds onto her chest, his head burying into the pillow over her shoulder as he drops the phone onto the mattress next to her. “Are you a fucking masochistic or something because no one should get up at this time when they don’t have to,” he mumbles into the pillow, twisting his head towards her ear, her hair tickling his nose.

She chuckles, lifting her hand up to the back of his head, stroking through his hair as she closes her eyes, breathing deeply again.

“I do have to,” she strangles out, her voice still hoarse with sleep. “Need to get up and ready,” she whispers, turning her head into his cheek, rubbing her nose against it as she sighs.

“10 more minutes,” he mumbles, nestling into her.

She hums, the idea absolutely inviting.

“Did you snooze it or turn it off?” She asks quietly.

“I think I snoozed it,” he sighs.

“Double check,” she informs.

He dramatically wails, pushing up from her, and picking up the phone to see the lock screen counting down until the next alarm.

“7 minutes and 3 seconds. I’ve already been robbed 3 minutes,” he moans, lying back down on top of her; back into his spot in the crux of her neck, as she grins with her fingers back to trailing his hair.

He groans when the snooze alarm goes off as well, twisting his head to the side whilst blindly touching around the mattress until his hand finds the phone, touching the screen until it goes back off. He turns back around to her sighing, as her eyes finally open to smile at him.

“Morning,” he grimaces with one eye open, his hair scruffy all over the place.

Her eyebrows rise, a small smile forming on her lips, “good morning,” she whispers.

He falls into her neck again, sighing, as she smiles, pressing a kiss to his temple and stroking his back. He offers a half attempt of a peck at her neck as his hand tightens under her pillow.

“Want to wake up like this every day,” he mumbles.

“Really?” She pulls away from him sceptically. “Even at 5.30?”

“Mmm… that part needs negotiation.”

“Come on,” she diverts. “Up,” she pats his back, encouraging him off of her.

He groans again, pushing up above her with a grin as she looks at him sharply whilst he hovers over her.

“You’re really cute,” he offers.

**He was going to say beautiful or gorgeous or something a bit more accurate, but it seemed stupid coming out of his mouth.**

“Why thank you. You’re pretty cute yourself,” she responds with a smile, grazing her nails against his stubble. “Now let me up,” she groans seriously trying to sit up.

“Just a minute,” he whispers, leaning down to offer a light peck, a second, a third. She giggles a little, responding to each one, wrapping her hands around his neck. He deepens the kiss, moving his lower half so he’s lying in between her legs.

“Roman,” she warns into his mouth.

“Uhu,” he continues, taking her hand from his neck and threading his fingers through hers, press their joined hands above her head into the pillow.

“We don’t have time. I need to get ready,” she lightly protests as he kisses down her jaw.

“It’s fucking 5.30 and the meeting isn’t until 12pm. I’m sure you’ll cope,” he murmurs, his teeth scraping against her jaw. “I have time to make up for.”

“It’s probably 5.45 by now,” she corrects, closing her eyes, sighing as she feels him rub himself against her.

He pulls back, pushing up and hovering above her, with a sarcastic shocked look.

“Oh fuck. That means the meeting is in 6 hour and 15 minutes. We’re probably going to miss it now. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

She stretches her arm up to grasp his chin squeezing tight with a sly grin.

“You insolent little shit,” she grits out with a laugh, leaning up to peck his lips hard.

“Mmm… say it again,” he growls laughing, leaning down and kissing her passionately back into the pillows. She laughs into the kiss, wrapping her arms back around him.

He moves his kisses quickly to her neck, continuing them down her chest as he begins backing down the bed. His hands trail down to both of her thighs as they open for him, his hands grazing the insides of them as he hears a gasp above him, her hand pushing him into her breast as he laps it up.

“Roman,” she whispers, as she feels his stubble begin to scratch against her, her hips bucking up into his chest whilst his touches on her thighs tingle right through to her core. His hand moves to her centre, rubbing his thumb against her clit as he moves further down under the covers to her stomach kissing the whole way down until he reaches his target.

She throws her head back against the pillow, grasping at the bed sheets, gasping as his mouth lands against her, her knees bending as his arms move under her thighs, his hands pressing against her pelvis.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, reaching for the back of his head.

*****

The morning had gone by relatively quickly. She sneaks back to her room before the butler arrives; he asking the butler if Ms Kellman was awake before the façade of asking her if she wanted to grab breakfast downstairs or invite him into her dining room.

He had pulverised the décor of her dining room, she giggling into coffee as he did so.

He had forced the butler to stay; asking him 100 questions about being a butler, living in London, this hotel, the conversations he had listened in on, trying to get him to divulge the secret trysts that had happened in this hotel.

Poor Jonathan, likely exhausted at the end of his shift had refused to divulge, Roman playing the game of naming people who might have had a secret tryst and waiting for Jonathan to make a signal that he was accurate.

“Hillary Clinton?”

“As I said, sir, I’m not at liberty to divulge anything,” the butler tells him calmly. 

“Come oooon. Give me something. Queen Elizabeth?”

The butler was still.

“Betty White?

Nothing.

“Uhm… Oprah Winfrey?”

Silence.

“Helen Mirren?” He raises his eyebrows at Gerri, who simply rolls her eyes in return.

Zero.

“Barack Obama?”

Ziltch.

“Beyonce?”

Zip.

“JULIE ANDREWS!”

“Leave him alone, Roman,” she sighs, taking a bite of her eggs.

“He’s going to crack. I can feel it,” he narrows his eyes at the rigid butler standing behind him, Roman now twisted around in his chair, his chin settled on his knee.

“Mr Rogers!”

Nada.

“You’re right. These are all too juicy. I need to think of someone who actually WOULD do it. Mmmmm…,” he considers, as she folds her hands under her chin, shaking her head.

“Donald Trump?

Naught.

“Ehm…. I’ve got one. Tiger Woods!”

Nil.

“Carole Baskin?”

Blank.

“killed her husband, whacked him,” he mutters under his breath.

“Margaret Thatcher!”

“For god’s sake, Roman,” she mutters, shaking her head, smiling.

He looks to the butler expectantly, his mouth lying open, as the butler slowly lifts his gloved hand up to his ear to rub it.

“AHA! I knew it!” Roman shouts, looking back to Gerri whose jaw has dropped to the table.

“Who with, Jonny boy! Come on! You can tell me!” he smiles. “She’s cool as well. She’s a fucking vault,” he gestures to Gerri over his shoulder.

“Well that’s an upgrade from filing cabinet,” she says flatly, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Jonathan says with the ghost of a brief twitch at the side of his lips.

“Prince Philip.”

Back to silence.

“Roman, tell me we’re not going to go through every man in the world now?”

“No, course not,” he pauses. “Jack Nicolson!”

Her eyes roll as she shoots the poor butler an apologetic smile.

“Who was James Bond at the time? Roger Moore?”

Even the butler struggles not to roll his eyes at this point, instead giving a small sigh.

“John Major?”

“Is it always like this?” The butler asks her.

“You have no idea.”

“John Travolta?!” He shouts excitedly.

*****

Their assistants had joined them in her huge living room after breakfast, helping them to prepare for the pitch for the hour before they had to leave. He had paced through the room, reciting information back to her, she responding with different strategies as their assistants had answered emails diligently.

From what she had gathered the Ace Airlines office is in the Shard, not far from here, so they had left their assistants behind, making their way in a hired car to the office. They take in the impressive office space when they are escorted in, Roman cracking jokes about every person he passes; commenting on everything shiny he sees like a magpie.

He didn’t know what to think of Edwin Grantham when he first saw the stupid fucking grin on his face; his arms held out as he walked towards them in the hallway.

He was exactly as Roman remembered him. A silver fox, Pierce Brosnan looking type dude. All fucking eyebrows and cheeky smirks. He knew his kind; he had pretended to be his kind for years.

What he didn’t fucking like was how overly familiar he was being with Gerri. He had kissed her cheek when he had greeted her, which she had accepted like a champ, a small raising of panicked eyebrows being awarded to Roman as Edwin had shaken his hand firmly.

He quickly realised as their meeting proceeded that Edwin wasn’t interested in his presence at all, because he was solely concentrated on Gerri whenever Roman spoke.

He wishes it was because she was the CEO, but he could tell by the smouldering looks Edwin was shooting her and the flirtation he was laying on thick that he wanted more than just a business arrangement with Waystar Royco; he wanted a personal arrangement with Gerri Kellman also.

Gerri still had been taking it like a pro, offering a small smile at each wink, diverting the attention back to the facts at each suggestive comment. He didn’t know what to do in this situation; he had never had to before; they had never prepared for this.

**He can feel the anger within him increasing. He thought it was disrespectful as fuck to just keep on hitting on someone who was clearly trying to put the brakes on it. He was angry on her behalf that his old dude was flirting with her instead of seriously concentrating on the important shit she was saying. He had seen with his own eyes how many fucking hours Gerri had put into this and now he wasn’t even taking it fucking seriously? Is this what Gerri had had to go through with men her whole life? I mean she’s a fox now, but he remembers how hot she was even when she was younger. Maybe it was because she was single now, no Baird to hide behind as an excuse to rebuff these guys, though he doubts that would have stopped them even then.**

_She could see out of her peripheral Roman was getting progressively getting riled up; his knee bouncing under the table, moving forward and backwards in his chair agitated. She had seen him opening his mouth to blast something out and she knew she had to put a stop to it._

He’s about to step in and tell the guy what he really thinks when she asks for a break for 10 minutes, citing the need for time to rejuvenate and go to the rest room.

“Is there somewhere Roman and I could go to talk privately, Edwin?” She smiles sweetly, standing up from the desk as Edwin’s two cronies stand also.

“Privately, eh? You want to keep some secrets from me, Ms Kellman?” He flirts, standing and buttoning up his suit jacket, drifting around the table to stand a little too close to her.

“That’s for me to know, I suppose,” she smiles back with a small chuckle, as Roman’s eyes bulge.

**Was she starting to get involved in this flirting! The fucking nerve!**

“I look forward to finding out all your secrets,” he hits back with a roguish smirk as she smiles back with a quirked eyebrow. “Just down the hall,” Edwin smiles, holding the door open for them both, placing his hand on the small of Gerr’s back as she passes, and then leading them down the hallway into a closed office.

“We’ll be ready to get back to it in 10. Just let me know if you need anything, Gerri,” he winks.

“Oh, she will,” Roman pipes up forcefully for her, as Edwin looks to Roman as though he has just noticed his presence. He smiles at Gerri again and shuts the door behind him.

“Fuck, he’s hard work,” her face falls from its fake smile instantly, as she puffs, perching herself against the edge of the table, stretching her legs out, moving her jaw around to stretch it.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re struggling with it from my POV, _Gerri…_ ,” he says mimicking Edwin and rolling his eyes.

“You think I enjoy all that shit? My fucking cheeks are hurting from plastering a smile on to hide my repulsion.”

“Then why are you flirting back with fucking Prince Andrew in there? Because he’s definitely taken a crack at one or two under agers. You know that don’t you? I wouldn’t be shocked if he wasn’t Epstein’s fucking bestie,” he snarls, widening his legs to stand over her stretched out ones.

“Oh, please don’t say that. I’ve had enough fucking scandals this year,” she brings her hand up to rub her brow.

“Why are you flirting back with him, Gerri? Why don’t you just tell him to fuck off if you don’t like it? Hell, I’ll fucking tell him for you gladly!” He asks, crossing his arms.

“Because that’s not how you conduct business, Roman. I’ve dealt with a billion Edwin fucking Grantham’s, and it’s the same every time. They flirt through the entire thing, whilst the suits with them ask the right questions and write down all the important information. They look at the offer and ask for some time to consider all the details, getting back with you tomorrow if you’re still in town. That gives enough time for the guys who actually paid attention to fill them in on everything that actually happened. We come back tomorrow and negotiate on the terms now that the pretty boy has all the facts because he was too busy leering the day before. The negotiations continue for however long it has to, sometimes months, until you reach a settlement. And you wait for it, he’ll ask to have dinner with me tonight to discuss a possible “arrangement”, even though he doesn’t have a fucking clue what he would even be discussing. Just watch.”

“Dinner? You’re going to go to dinner with that fucking reprobate?”

“Fuck no!” She protests quickly. “Absolutely not. I will make something up so he isn’t offended. I have more important plans for tonight,” she smiles at him flirtatiously as he smiles back, much more soothed now, leaning forward to peck her lips.

“Not here,” she whispers with a smile, pushing him back after willingly receiving his kiss.

“How do you think it’s going in there anyway? You think they will go for it?” He asks her, as she crosses her arms, sighing.

“I don’t know. One of the suits looks sceptical, but it’s hard to tell. All I’ve gathered from Edwin is that he’s a big talker and it seems he might be genuinely interested in getting out at the right price. But it’s not helping that they are getting distracted by you fidgeting angrily next to me instead of the facts I’m hitting them with,” she looks at him pointedly.

“Well no wonder, Gerri. The guy is completely fucking disrespectful. How do guys think that actually works on women? Like they will just fall into his bed if he acts that way?” He paces a little, throwing his hands up in the air.

“You would be surprised how many women would fall into someone’s bed at getting that attention,” she fiddles with an earring, curling her lip.

“Not smart women, Gerri. Not you,” he reasons, as she smirks a little at him.

“No, not me. Not my scene,” she says softly.

“Exactly,” he points at her, continuing to pace.

“But you need to tone it down. I understand it’s frustrating for you, but I’ve been dealing with this my whole career and I know how to handle it. It honestly doesn’t faze me. I actually enjoy the fact that I know exactly how to manipulate it. So, don’t get offended on my behalf. Just sit back and enjoy the show because I will just run rings around it,” she smiles, grasping his hand as he walks by and squeezes it.

“You sure? Because I will fuck this place up, man. I can go in there and karate chop him, and like fucking Rey Mysterio - 619 his ass, man. Take out his two fucking cronies as well with a chokeslam and shit. Take a secretary hostage, grab a donut for the road, shimmy down the drainpipe, steal a Jag, and we are out of here. Just say the word,” he tells her seriously.

_What the fuck is a 619?_

She smiles, stifling a laugh. “I’m okay for now… but I will absolutely let you know if I want that plan to come into fruition.”

“Okay. Just say ‘Operation Fuck Shit Up’ and it’s on,” he says seriously, throwing his hands around.

“Thank you, Rome,” she smiles. “Come on, we better get back. Keep your eyes on the other two stooges. I want to know what you think of them.”

She stands up and gets to the door, turning her back on it for a moment and fixing his tie.

“And don’t let Edwin get under your skin. He’s just posturing.”

“He’s coming onto my bitch is what he’s doing,” he mumbles.

She hits him with a deadly eye, her fingers still clutching his tie.

“Sorry. Just a joke,” he giggles nervously.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear,” she begins as he gulps awaiting her reprimand. “I’m not your bitch. You’re my bitch, and don’t forget it,” she smiles sweetly, tapping his cheek twice lightly, before turning around and reaching for the handle.

“Okay, he’s coming onto my owner is what he’s doing,” he smirks as she opens the door, looking over her shoulder at him with flirtatious smile.

*****

She was completely right in her prediction, the Earl of Fuckwad wasn’t listening to a word either of them was saying.

He had kept a close eye on the suits, one of them eyeing him suspiciously as he spoke about the value of the company, retorting that it was worth a lot more.

He was trying to figure out which of the two guys were more important, which of them he should be concentrating on trying to finesse.

But low and behold, the meeting was finished with the invitation to return tomorrow, just as Gerri had predicted, her smirk and side glance filling him up inside.

“Gerri? Could I have word?” Edwin serenades from across the room.

“Here we go,” she whispers to Roman as he quirks his lips in response.

She looks up to Edwin with a smile. “Of course,” she says sweetly, moving across the room to him as he touches her elbow, turning their backs on Roman.

“I think it would be good for me to get a better picture of what is going on ehm… here with this offer in a more informal setting and I would love for you to explain it to me, so I was just wondering if you had any dinner plans? It would be great to build up some relations so I know if I would be handing my company over into good hands,” he says completing his sentence by taking her hand and stroking the back of it.

_She could feel a squirm inside her body. Over 30 years of this and she still hadn’t gotten used to men putting their hands on her and being overly familiar._

But she paints a smile on her face, fighting the urge not to pull her hand from his as he strokes his cold fingers over it.

“I would love to Edwin, but I’m afraid I already have a business dinner set up for tonight,” she tells him kindly, as his smile falls.

“Tomorrow?” He asks hopefully.

“I’m afraid we will be flying out directly after the meeting. But I will tell you what, let me see if I can get out of my plans tonight. How does that sound?”

Roman smirks across the room.

**She really was a pro at this. If she had said that to him, he would have been hard in his pants right now.**

Edwin grins wolfishly, “sounds great to me.”

“My assistant will be in touch,” she smirks, extracting her hand, turning around so her back is facing Edwin and walking back towards Roman. He stifles a laugh as he watches her roll her eyes and smirk at him, whilst Edwin poses confidently behind her.

Roman helps her on with her coat, watching as she picks up her laptop bag, confidently striding to Edwin to shake his hand.

“I’ll be in touch,” she smiles at him, pulling her hand away quickly before he can attempt another awkward kiss.

“I hope so,” he winks, before Roman slides in quickly, shaking his hand.

“I’ll be in touch soon, too,” Roman throws him lightly, winking at him.

“Lovely to meet you, Roman,” Edwin offers with narrowed eyes.

“Likewise,” Roman smiles, before holding the door open for Gerri and following her to the elevator.

*****

They go for lunch at some posh assed place before heading back to her hotel room, taking a breather before they have to conference call with Logan.

“I fucking love watching you dominate men. It’s hot as fuck,” he says lying back on the couch next to her and plunking his feet on the coffee table loudly.

“I never would have guessed from the numerous phone calls berating you into an orgasm,” she fires back, bending down and removing her shoes before grasping her phone and hunching over as she checks her emails.

“So, when are you going to let the Grand old Duke of Pork down?”

“I will message Claire after the conference call. Want to make sure he thinks I actually tried to cancel,” she smiles, looking back at him over her shoulder before returning to her phone.

“So, what do we do now?”

“We wait for him to come back to us tomorrow,” she says beginning to type out an email.

“And until then?” He asks her suggestively, running his fingers down the back of her spine.

“You’re a one-track mind, do you know that?”

“Excuse me, ma’am! I was going to suggest Madam Tussauds or the London dungeon! I don’t know what you were thinking! Besmirching my character like that. You’re the one tracked mind here,” he protests, mock offended.

“Tourism in London? Meh,” she shrugs, putting her phone on the table before lying back against the cushions.

“You’re more of a museum kind of gal, aren’t you? Or shopping in Harrods, driving everyone in Max Mara crazy as you order them around.”

“How would you know I wear Max Mara?”

“I have my sources,” he strains his eyes, tapping his nose.

“Stalker.”

“I mean, it’s on the big fucking label on like every one of your coats but sure,” he shrugs.

“It does sound like a better day than idiots jumping out on you in a dungeon, I have to admit,” she sighs, picking a piece of lint off of her skirt.

“Then why don’t we do that after the conference call. I’m sure I can find some shit to look at in Harrods, so it doesn’t look like we are spending tiiiime together.”

“Mmm, maybe. Should we just do dinner here again? Not risk going to a restaurant and running into Edwin?”

“Yeah, sure,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “Does it actually annoy you that all these guys just fawn over you?” He asks, taking her hand, threading it throw his own, as he pulls it towards him, playing with her ring.

“It’s flattering. But yeah, when you’re trying to get someone to listen to what you’re saying and they’re too busy mapping out how to get you into their bed. Yeah, that’s pretty fucking frustrating,” she throws her head back against the top of the sofa, taking a deep breath.

“It annoys me,” he admits, bringing her hand up to his lips, kissing it and running his lips over her ring.

“I could tell,” she smiles. “I don’t think it was ever going to be any secret that you were going to be the jealous type.”

He hums, glaring across the room, his lips still grazing her ring.

“But Roman, whilst I can have a bit of understanding with your protectiveness. I am not an object and it will wear thin very quickly if it goes too far,” she looks at him warningly.

“No, I know,” he whimpers.

“Good,” she twists onto her hip, reaching her hand across to stroke his knee through a few minutes of silence.

“I can’t help it, you know,” he says quietly.

“I know, but I just want you to know that a little jealousy is normal but when you let it start going crazy, that’s when it’s too far. You have nothing to worry about. You also need to realise that everyone notices other people’s attractiveness and sometimes they might flirt a little just to have something to say, but it doesn’t mean that they are going to jump into bed with them. It’s a completely unrealistic thing created by movies that you stop noticing other men or women when you enter a relationship. I can appreciate if a man is handsome and not want to do anything about it. You appreciated the young receptionist last night. It’s normal,” she soothes, stroking further up his thigh.

“I didn’t appreciate the young receptionist last night,” he scowls at her, dropping their hands to his stomach.

“Rome,” she smiles kindly. “I’m not offended.”

“No seriously,” his eyes bulge. “I get what you’re trying to say but I wasn’t appreciating the receptionist. I just realised that she was the one I had spoken to on the phone the night before and I was congratulating myself because she looked exactly what I expected her to look like when I was speaking to her. Cross between Tabs and Virgin Atlantic air hostess. That was it.”

_She doesn’t know why that gives her a little bit of relief. She herself was never a jealous person, but she had seen the girls he had dated before her and let’s be honest, she was a far stretch from that._

“Okay, Rome,” she smiles, leaning to give him a peck before pulling back.

“I’m going to grab a drink before his conference, you want one?”

“Yeah, whatever your having,” he says as she gets up, trying to release his hand, he reaching up until he can let go at the last moment, before he settles back against the cushions again, folding his arms over on his stomach.

*****

“So, how’d it go?” They hear Logan’s voice booming over the loudspeaker on Roman’s phone.

“Yeah, it went great. He seems interested in selling, though he’s going to take the night to review all the information and how we came to the figure we offered. He wants to meet again tomorrow morning to discuss it. But it’s looking promising,” Gerri tells him enthusiastically.

“Romulus, what did you think?”

“Yeah, I agree with Gerri. I mean he was a lot of charm and not a lot of detail but he seems interested so we will probably know more by tomorrow,” he says shrugging at Gerri.

“Yeah. Edwin Grantham. He still as big a fucking player as he was in the 90s?” Logan asks laughing.

“You’d have to ask Gerri,” Roman smiles, as her eyes go wide. “He asked her out to dinner.”

Gerri winces, putting her head in her hands.

“Oh, did he? So, you’re going?” Logan booms, as Roman looks confusedly at Gerri’s reaction.

“Uhm… I was going to skip it because I have a lot to look over for your defence, you know and –,” she searched hesitantly.

“Are you fuckin’ crazy?” Logan shouts down the phone. “Do you want to land this deal or not? Get the fuck out there and flirt with the guy so he takes the deal. Show him a little leg. Jesus Christ, Gerri. What kind of CEO doesn’t take advantage of something like that,” he shouts, as Roman’s eyes bulge, whilst she stares at him angrily.

“No, you’re right, Logan,” she lilts, her eyes squeezing shut. “I can work on your defence when I’m back. I’ll contact him just now and see if he’s still available.”

“You better. Romulus don’t do something fucking stupid while you’re in London tonight. We don’t need the press.”

He rolls his eyes, his hands perched over his mouth.

“Sure, pop,” he responds.

“All right. Check in with me when you know something,” Logan announces before the phone hangs up.

He stares at her for a moment, words failing him as she sits with her hands covering her eyes, her elbows perched on her knees.

“I -, I didn’t,” he huffs, pushing his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think he’d make you go,” he gives weakly.

“Roman,” she sighs, trying to be patient. “I think I failed to mention to you that since Baird died, the propositions at the end of those meetings became more frequent, with your dad pushing me into taking them up. Obviously, I never wanted to go but every fucking time your dad would push me into it for the good of the deal. Then even when Baird was alive, if your dad got the sense the guy was being flirty, I would all of a sudden be invited to the dinner with them. Your dad is old school. He thinks that someone is more likely to make a crazy deal if their dick is hard, probably because he thinks that way himself,” she finishes clasping her hands and holding them tight to her mouth.

“Are you fucking kidding? That’s fucking –,” he stands up instantly pacing across the room and turning in a circle. “That’s fucking borderline being a fucking paid escort, Gerri,” he spits out.

She raises her eyebrows at that.

_She hadn’t thought of it like that._

“Just don’t go, Gerri,” he says, the feeling of nausea washing over him. “Fuck him. Don’t go.”

“Roman, I need to go now. The repercussions from your dad isn’t worth it. I learned that early,” she sighs.

“No, Gerri!” He shouts. “This is fucking bullshit. You’re a fucking CEO not a fucking hooker. You shouldn’t be getting pushed into doing shit like this if you don’t want to! It’s fucking… urgh!” He shouts loudly, continuing his pacing around the room.

She stands up, walking towards him, touching his arm as he begins to turn around, his eyes looking back at her angrily.

“Rome,” she says softly, pulling him towards her. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she pulls his head to look at her, searching his eyes, her hands on either side of his face, stroking gently.

“I don’t want you to go, Gerri. It’s not right. What if he tries to like feel you up or something?” He says, putting his arms around her waist.

“Fuck help him if he tries. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of me. It would be just as much of a risk if I went on any other date. Stop worrying,” she offers a confident smile, so he can see she’s okay with it.

“’Operation fuck shit up’ still stands. I’ll take the host hostage instead,” he smiles weakly.

“I’ll keep you on speed dial.”

“I can come to the restaurant. We can go buy me a wig and you can lend me a Max Mara coat,” he smiles again.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she laughs, pushing his hair back.

“You’re not going to get swept away by him and become fucking lady of the manor, are you?” He jokes quietly.

**He can’t help feel the panic inside him that she might actually be swept away by this debonaire Lames Bond cunt.**

She snorts, a huge grin donning her lips. “Absolutely fucking not.”

He hums, pressing his forehead onto her shoulder, tightening his grasp around her waist, as she wraps her arms around his shoulder.

“Don’t go, Gerri,” he whispers, pecking the base of her neck.

“I have to, Rome. It’ll be fine. I will leave early and we can have a drink when I get back, all right?”

He huffs against her.

“Why do I feel like it’s that bit in Moulin Rouge when Nicole Kidman needs to go fuck the Duke so they can have the original ending, while Ewan McGregor sits home and cries,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

_She’s never seen Moulin Rouge, but she gets the gist of what he’s trying to suggest here._

“I’m not going to fuck him,” she laughs pulling back, grasping his chin, and staring him challengingly in the eye. “And you’re not going to sit at home and cry,” she smiles.

He purses his lips, as his brow furrows.

“Do you trust me?” She asks him pointedly.

He nods, her hand that is still grasping his chin moving with it.

“Then you know I’m not going to do anything like that and I’m not going to say anything more about it. The subject is over,” she finishes, pecking his puckered lips, and letting go of his chin.

He stands still as she turns back towards the table picking up her phone, typing a message out to Claire she assumes.

“I’ve asked for dinner to be at 7. Do you want to go to Harrods or not?”

He shrugs in response, huffing, “yeah, fuck it.”

*****

Dinner with Edwin Grantham is exactly what she had imagined. An expensive, exclusive restaurant which he makes sure to let her know. Settled in a small booth where he sits a little too close for her comfort, she excusing herself immediately to go to the restroom so she can return and sit at an acceptable distance.

Him trying to make recommendations about what she should order on the menu, which she loathes, whilst he orders wine for them – a vintage classic, of course.

He flirts the whole way through it, touching her hand occasionally as he laughs or tells a story. She smiles along, taking increasing sips of her wine as she listens to him rhyme off all of his commodities; his chateau in France, his apartment in Rome, all the usual fucking things that these guys always had.

She enjoys the game she always plays in these situations though.

She likes to try and slip business discussions into it. Afterall, that’s what this business dinner was for, wasn’t it? She likes to watch them get frustrated that she’s changing the subject from personal to business; watching them squirm as they need to try and answer her inquiries, proving that they hadn’t listened to a word she had said earlier that day. It’s a game that sometimes backfires on her though. She’s often been called feisty, a firecracker, fiery, and spunky because of her no-nonsense attitude when she becomes too direct discussing business at these dinners. Her personal game of running rings around them often becomes a turn on for them, and that ruins the game for her completely.

And here he is; ruining her game completely.

His compliments are becoming more frequent as he orders a third bottle of wine, his touches are lingering longer, whilst she tries to divert attention by talking about anything and everything; hoping to pique his interest and keep him on side and less interested in touching her.

She checks her watch, refusing dessert as he accepts its invitation, holding her here longer.

She looks to her personal phone briefly as he splutters a story through eating his sticky toffee pudding; skimming the texts from Roman on her lock screen.

**_19.04_ **

**_Roman: How is Sir Pervalot?_ **

****

**_19.17_ **

**_Roman: Do you think I could take him?_ **

****

**_19.29_ **

**_Roman: Image_ ** **📷**

**_Roman: My dinner looks just as tragic as I feel._ **

****

**_19.42_ **

**_Roman: Has he tried to slip you the tongue? Feel you up under the table?_ **

****

**_19.49_ **

**_Roman: My dick is bigger than his, right?_ **

****

**_20.01_ **

**_Roman: This is ridiculous, Gerri. You shouldn’t have to do this._ **

****

**_20.25_ **

**_Roman: Time for ‘Operation Fuck shit up’ yet? I’m bored._ **

****

**_20.32_ **

**_Roman: Come back. We can get drunk and fuck all night._ **

****

She smiles down at the messages, holding in the last one to respond.

**_He’s eating dessert. Won’t be long._ **

“Got a better offer?” He asks her, smiling.

She looks up to him as she sends the message away, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Sorry? Oh no. It’s just work,” she smiles back. “I’m going to have to go soon though. I have a conference call I have scheduled tonight.”

“Work? At this hour?”

“Uhm… yeah. Need to check in with the studio in LA. It’s only 12.30 in the afternoon over there,” she says lifting her napkin and placing it on the table.

“Oh, okay. Ehm, I’ll get the bill then,” he says solemnly, looking for a waiter and clicking his finger at him.

_Fuck she hates when people do that._

She messages the personal car service, requesting a collection as he pays the check, whilst she doesn’t even offer to.

_She was here as his guest after all._

They stand in the reception area, waiting for the host to collect their jackets, as she clutches her purse tightly to her, looking up to stained glass ceiling, attempting to ignore his glare on her.

“I can’t tempt you with another drink? Maybe a nightcap at another bar?”

“I’m afraid not, but I’ll see you tomorrow,” she smiles as she spots the host over his shoulder, arriving with their coats. He annoyingly takes it before she can reach it and helps her on with it.

She feels his fingers brush against her neck as he pushes it onto her back, his hands settling on her shoulders when she has it on, fixing the front.

She eventually pulls away, aware that he isn’t going to remove them, before turning around and smiling at him nervously as he quickly puts his own coat on.

He opens the door for her as they step out into the freezing cold air, winter well on its way in England apparently.

“Can I give you a lift?” He asks suavely.

“Oh. No thanks. I have a car on route. It should be here in a few minutes, but I will see you in the morning,” she smiles, wrapping her coat tighter around her as a bitter breeze runs through her.

“Then I’ll wait with you. Couldn’t leave a beautiful lady on a London pavement on her own with it being this dark outside,” he quirks his lips, standing closer to her as he puts on his black leather gloves.

“Honestly, I’ll be fine. It’ll be here any minute,” she reiterates, pushing her hands into her pockets, her purse balancing under her arm.

“No, please. I insist.”

“Uhm, okay. Thank you,” she grits out, looking from side to side for the car to appear. Pulling out her phone when she feels a buzz on her hand to see if the car service had offered any update.

**_20.49_ **

**_Roman: Fuck yeah. I’ll get champagne_**.

She smiles down at the message, slipping it back into her pocket as she looks up for her car again, a mist forming in front of her face as she sighs.

“It seems like you’re desperate to get away from me. I’ll try not to be offended,” Edwin laughs next to her, stepping closer.

She looks up to him, noticing the front of his arm grazing the back of hers now as he faces the road alongside her.

“Oh, not at all. It’s just very cold,” she offers, bending her knees and moving from side to side, as though to prove that to him.

“Please let me,” he offers, trailing his hand around her back, settling it on her upper arm opposite him and rubbing up and down. She can feel herself stiffen at his touch.

_Jesus Christ. How did these guys move so fast?_

She forces a smile, begging for the car to hurry the fuck up in her head.

“Better?” He asks, as his hand trails down her arm and down to her waist, rubbing up and down against it.

“Mhm,” she offers her lips inverted. She closes her eyes, feeling that horrible surge through her again that she had had earlier, resisting the urge to move away from him. However, when she opens them, she thinks she can see her car.

She takes a step forward out of his touch, looking through the window when her chauffer gives her a wave.

“Oh, that’s me!” She says excitedly, turning around to him.

“Well, it was a beautiful dinner. Thank you,” she offers her hand to him to shake it.

“All the better with beautiful company,” he smirks back, taking her hand and pulling her towards him to peck her cold cheek, then moving to the other one. When she thinks he’s about to go for her lips, she moves back.

“I really have to go. I’m going to miss that conference call,” she says pulling her hand from his. “Thank you, again! Goodnight!” She shouts behind her, dashing towards the car.

When she slams the door shut, she gives a huge sigh, the car already beginning to move back to the hotel before she opens her eyes again.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket, smiling again at the text Roman had sent her.

 ** _On my way,_** she types out, smiling as she rubs her hands together trying to heat back up.

******

When she opens the door into their little foyer, she doesn’t even get to her door before she hears his door opening behind her.

“So, how was it? Did he get you pregnant?”

She turns around and sees him leaning against the door, his arms folded, a smirk on his lips.

“No, we used a condom. And yes, it is bigger than yours,” she smiles, opening her door.

“Ohhhhh, Lady MacBeth strikes again. Twisting your fucking knife,” he smiles, standing up and pressing his hands against the top of the door frame.

“Are you coming in or what?” She asks over her shoulder.

“Yeah. I need to grab the champagne. Give me a sec,” he turns, about to run back into his room.

“Okay, I’m going to get changed,” she opens the door, leaving it lying wide open for him.

“Okay,” she hears echoed behind her as he runs back into his room.

She’s got her shoes kicked off and her shirt unbuttoned, when he peaks his head into her bedroom, holding a bucket with champagne.

“Need any help?” He asks with a sly grin.

“No thanks. I’ve been dressing myself for quite some time now. I think I’ll manage,” she raises her eyebrows back.

He shrugs, taking the champagne into the living area and settles it down on the table. He finds his way to the bar, looking for an extra glass.

**He would need to remember to take this back to his room.**

She walks into the room clad in her satin pyjamas, Ugg boots, and big fucking sweater wrapped around her, her glasses rejected, as he pours the second champagne flute.

“You okay there? You want a puffer coat as well?” He smirks, passing her a flute when she is settled on the couch.

“Very fucking funny,” she hits back sarcastically. “It’s fucking freezing,” she says, folding her legs under her and taking a sip of the champagne.

“So how was it then with Prince Bland Screw?” He asks, moving to sit next to her on the couch, his back against the arm.

“As expected. Boring and overly-familiar,” she rolls her eyes, taking another sip of the champagne.

“Oh yeah?” He asks lightly, though his stomach has dropped. “How overly familiar?”

_She can tell he’s desperate for the details. She wars with herself on whether she should fail to mention some of it to avoid his potential anger, or if she should continue their honesty, hopefully nipping his jealousy in the bud. Or just lie so he doesn’t feel any hurt at all. But she remembers his honesty with her over his disorder issues, remembers that he’s still trying to learn how to deal with that and it softens her. She thinks that if she were in his position, with jealousy consuming her, it would be worse if she had found out later that he had lied._

“He was full of compliments and a bit touchy feely. Not anything overtly inappropriate, though,” she offers, turning so her back is against the other arm of the couch, propped up by lots of pillows, pulling her Ugg boots off before stretching her legs out and stroking her foot against his thigh.

**He wants to ask for more information again, but he doesn’t know if he should. He knows that it’s not his business. But he wants to know what this fucking creep has said to her or if he made a move. He can sense that Gerri is holding back, and it makes him more nervous than anything. What if he had trying to stick his tongue down her throat or stuck his hand up her skirt. He knows he trusts Gerri and knows she wouldn’t have done let it happen. But he just has to fucking know or it’s going to drive him insane. The thought of not knowing makes him feel like he can’t breathe.**

“Put me out of my misery, Gerri. Please,” he says softly, sighing as he moves his hand to stroke along her foot, looking up into her eyes.

_She doesn’t know if this kind of thing would make him worse. She doesn’t know if she should tell him everything since it was almost feeding the issue, creating an expectation. But looking at the panic on his face just makes her want to alleviate it. She would need to look further into this, maybe with a psychologist or something when she gets home because she doesn’t know what’s best to do. For now though, she couldn’t stand to look at his panic._

“It was nothing. I got a lot of the ‘you’re beautiful’ comments,” she starts before he interrupted her

“I think you’re beautiful. You know that, right?” He challenges, his grasp on her foot tightening.

“I know, Rome,” she says softly, stroking her other foot against his thigh again as he nods, looking down.

“He kept touching my hand and wrist during dinner. When I was waiting for my car, he offered to stay with me. When he found out I was freezing, he put his arm around me and stroked my arm for maybe a minute and then my waist for like 5 seconds,” she says taking a sip of her champagne again.

“I just don’t get why these guys think it’s okay to do that?” He huffs, kneading her foot now.

“To be fair Roman. It’s not like I’ve completely rebuffed him considering I need to keep him on side for this deal. Unfortunately, I need to do the ‘keep him guessing’ shit, so his ego doesn’t get offended,” she smiles sadly.

“But you shouldn’t even have to do that, Gerri. Like why the fuck shouldn’t you be allowed to be like sorry sad sack, no thanks, I would rather not, and then get on with your fucking business deal. It’s like they are fucking children who spit the fucking dummy out when they don’t get their own way.”

She laughs a little, balancing her champagne against the back of the couch.

“Look at you, being all mature, standing up for women’s rights and the ‘Me Too’ movement. Only six months ago you needed a woman to explain to you why these things were offensive,” she chuckles as she brings the champagne up to her lips again.

“Fuck Gerri, I might be a fucking moron, but I know that’s not fucking okay,” he looks at her pointedly.

“I know. I was only teasing,” she smiles, kicking her other foot at his thigh, as he looks a little abated. “So, how was your dinner? I thought it looked quite nice.”

“It tasted better than it looked,” he comments, focussed on her foot.

“Did you annoy Jonathan again?”

“I actually think I almost… almost… convinced him to sit down next to me.”

“Oh really? You made him stay with you while you ate? I just told him to go last night and I would let him know when I was done. It was too awkward. Him standing behind me silently as I ate,” she grimaces shivering, watching the attention he’s giving her foot.

“Are you kidding? I just kept asking him questions. It was like a mind-fuck experiment. I convinced him to remove his hands from behind his back. Then I asked more questions. Then I got him to stand on the opposite end of the room because I told him that it was hurting my neck turning around to speak to him. Then more questions. Then I got him to not pour my wine because he wasn’t near it. I just jumped up and got it myself, while he had a heart attack in the corner. I was working on him sitting down when he got a phone call from reception. I think it ruined my hypnotic trance over him,” he huffs, lifting the champagne to take a big gulp.

“So, you basically tormented him all the way through your dinner?” She giggles, shaking her head.

“Nah, I think he loved it. It must be boring standing in silence as old dudes sit and eat in front of you. I think if I was here another few days, I could convince him to down a glass of wine; maybe take his gloves off,” he laughs as she smirks at him.

“Thank fuck for Jonathan that you aren’t. Poor boy would be thinking about it when he went to his bed at night. Afraid he would get fired for taking a glove off,” she laughs again.

“What a life one leads,” he dramatically announces in a pompous English accent, giggling as he drains the remainder of his champagne.

He lets go of her foot, standing up and taking her glass off her whilst he fills it up, passing it back and filling up his own.

“Want to break into Buckingham Palace?” He asks, sitting back down and taking her foot back into his lap.

She swallows a gulp of champagne, “mmm, bit cold. Maybe next time.”

“It’s cool. You’ve got more layers on than an Inuit. You’ll be fine. We could steal a coat from the Queen. See what brand she wears.”

“Mmm… maybe she wears custom Max Mara,” she comments.

“So, what do you suggest since you won’t trespass with me?”

“Well I seem to remember you offering champagne and fucking all night? So far you’ve made good on one half of that.”

“Well that’s what I had planned until I realised it would take me half the night to get you out of those clothes so maybe half a night of fucking is the new offer,” he smiles back at her.

“Good god, it’s only pyjamas and a sweater. You would think I came out in a snowsuit.”

“Mmm… sexy. Is this your idea of foreplay? Or did you get enough of that with the Baron Von Debauchery?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah. Nothing turns me on more than unwanted advances,” she rolls her eyes, moaning as he hits a particular spot on the arch of her foot.

He drains the rest of his champagne, depositing it on the coffee table as he falls back onto the couch on his knees, crawling towards her.

“Are you getting turned on just now, Gerri?” He whispers, kissing her stomach through her pyjamas. “Or are my advances wanted?”

She threads her fingers through the back of his head as she drains the rest of her champagne, her head becoming lighter as the alcohol begins to hit her.

“Mmm, I’m not sure,” she whispers back, as he continues kissing up to her chest, his fingers trailing across the sides of her thighs.

“Put this on the table, will you?” She taps the glass against his arm.

“I’m trying to fucking seduce here,” he looks up to her irritably. She simply smiles in return as he takes the glass off of her and reaches to place it on the coffee table with a groan.

“You mind if I get back to it now?” He asks exasperated.

“Be my guest,” she challenges, her voice hoarse, her hands trailing down his chest.

“Thank you,” he says, pushing her sweater open, running his hands up under her shirt so her can caress the skin at her side, his lips touching the bare skin above her chest.

“I love how you smell,” he whispers, as she hums, pushing his head, encouraging it up to her neck. “Your perfume, man. Just think of you when I smell it.”

“What else do you love?” She encourages, so happy to see how open he has become with things like this, considering how she remembers him with their first time on the yacht.

“Everything Gerri,” he whispers against her neck. “Your skin is so fucking soft.”

She hums again, as she pushes her hips up into his, gyrating to encourage him on.

He runs his hand down her body again, trailing his hand into her waist band and pushing along her hip to her backside, pulling her harder into him.

“I love your hair,” he whispers by her ear. “How it’s like completely golden and when you flick it around, putting it back behind your ear when you’re trying to concentrate.”

“Yeah?” she breathes out as his lips move across her cheek.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, kissing her languidly, still pulling her pelvis rhythmically into his, his hard on growing against her.

His kisses are soft, exploratory and it’s so different from the usual heated, frenzied sessions they have had before. This slow inspection of her mouth and her body was welcome, and she is just as interested in slowly exploring him as she begins unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands against the skin on his chest, the muscles below it, when it is. She runs her hands up over his shoulders, pushing the shirt off of him as she continues slowly running her tongue across his.

He pulls his hand out of her pants, pulling back from her and ripping his shirt off of his back as she watches him hungrily. Her lips puffed, her skin flushed, and her heart pounding.

He moves his hands down to her waistband, pulling them down and manoeuvring them off.

“Fuck it’s cold,” she giggles, rubbing against her thighs, quickly moving her hands to his belt instead, undoing it, as he takes over warming up her legs by running his hands up and down them firmly. 

He laughs as she vigorously pushes the pants and boxers together down his hips.

“Eager,” he smirks.

“Shut up,” she laughs back, as he stands up, pushing them all the way down, kicking them off, and standing before her in all his glory.

She quirks an eyebrow, challenging him as she widens her legs for him.

_It had been such a long time she had been so fucking bold and wanton like this. She forgotten what it had felt like to feel so sexy and hungry to be fucked by someone she actually gave a shit about._

He leans over to the back of the couch, grasping a large tartan blanket and wrapping it around his back so it sits around his neck, cascading to the floor.

“What are you doing?” She laughs.

He kneels on the couch again by her feet, stroking her bent legs.

“You said you were cold. I brought an aid,” he says obviously.

His head goes instantly between her legs, biting down the inside of her thighs as she sighs above him.

“What do _you_ want, Gerri? We always talk about what I want,” he looks up to her through his eyelashes.

“Just you, all over me,” she sighs smiling, as his eyes glisten back up to her; his head moving quickly to her centre.

He can smell her arousal as he laps up the fluid there; a potion created by her witchcraft making his fucked up mind focus only on getting her off and hearing her moans of passion.

She reaches down, pushing the blanket back so she can see him better.

“Roman, honey,” she sighs thickly, watching as he never stops moving his tongue against her, his eyes meeting hers over her mound, his grin pressing against her now.

He can see her eyes are heavy, her chest starting to heave as she presses up on her elbows watching him, and it’s so fucking intoxicating. It spurs him on more, sucking desperately against her as her gasps become more and more frequent, her calf curling around his back.

He feels her start to convulse, her screams filling the room.

“Fuck, Rome. Yes!” She shouts louder, her orgasm washing hard through her as her head falls back against the arm of the couch, her eyes closed, feeling his tongue continue to swirl over her.

He pulls back from her, licking his lips and moving up her body, as she smiles lazily. He pulls the blanket up with him, kissing her chest as he moves, whilst she pushes her hand through his hair. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes hazy, her lips puckered as she slowly breathes out her come down.

“Your lips,” he whispers, pecking her still swollen lips. “I love your lips. And the creases at the sides of your eyes when you smile.”

“My wrinkles you mean,” she growls, looking at him pointedly, pulling back.

“Why are woman so fucking stupid about that? It’s a good thing. It means you’re happy and you’re smiling which I enjoy seeing. Take the fucking compliment,” he rolls his eyes, pressing his lips to hers so she can’t respond, she moaning as she tastes herself on his tongue.

Her hand does the travelling this time, stroking down his side until she gets to his hard on pressing into her. She grasps it, stroking it languidly as he gasps into her mouth, her grin now pressing against his lips as she pumps him harder.

“You’ve been awfully good, haven’t you?” She continues stroking, as his open mouth presses against the side of hers, his breath rushing against the side of her mouth with.

“You were very professional in the meeting today, doing such a good job with Lord Fucker,” she whispers against him.

“Yeah,” he breathes, pushing his hips up into her hand to match her motion. “Yeah, I did,” he whines, his voice hitching.

She smiles, moving her mouth to his again, her tongue dancing with his, until he pushes further into her hand.

“I want to be inside you, Gerri,” he whispers, moving his tongue her cheek.

“Me too, Rome,” she breathes back, as she guides him to her entrance; he slowly pushing into her.

“Yes, Gerri,” he strangles out.

_Why does hearing her name on his tongue drive her so fucking crazy._

She pushes her back into the pillows, her pelvis thrusting up into him as he begins moving slowly inside her.

“That’s it, baby,” she moans, as he hits the spot within her.

**Baby. It drives him fucking wild when she calls him that. He never would have thought that’s was her go to endearment when getting fucked.**

_She already feels filled up. It won’t take long for him to send her back over the edge._

“Love you, Gerri,” he groans into her shoulder, biting against her clavicle. “I really fucking do.”

“I know, honey,” she grunts, as he quickens his speed within her, smacking inside her powerfully. “I love you too.”

He moans loudly; her words an even bigger turn on than anything else. He continues pounding within her, his arms wrapped around her shoulders providing leverage as she lies there and takes it, trying to meet his every thrust; moans, screams, and their names filling the ornate room.

She falls over the edge easily, her body falling harder than before as her chest releases a noise she never knew was within her. He grunts loudly not long after, releasing himself within her as he falls on her body, heaving against her.

“Is it just going to keep getting better?” He breathes into her hair.

“It looks like it,” she breathes back, stroking his back lazily.

“You’re fucking perfect, Gerri,” he pants into her neck. “Thank you for not running off with Viscount sleazy fuck,” he sighs contentedly.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for providing champagne and a good fuck,” she turns her head smiling at him as she takes in his shocked reaction.

She bursts out laughing, kissing him solidly as she laughs through it.

“You bitch, I put my heart and soul into that,” he smiles, pecking her over and over.

“And for that and for you, I am genuinely thankful,” she smiles, pushing his hair back from his brow as she kisses him slowly again.


	5. Scenes from an Act of Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerri's thoughts in italics.  
> Roman's thoughts in bold.

After another flirty meeting the next morning they had masterfully negotiated a sum of $11.5 billion dollars for the airline.

_A win in their eyes considering it was probably worth $13 billion. Perhaps her ability not to lose her cool with the Earl of Wandering Hands had worked in their stead._

Logan had been pleased with the figure considering the revenue it would pull in.

This, however, was just the beginning of the countless back and forths the Waystar legal team had to go through to draw up the contract and negotiate details with their legal team. After only a few weeks, this deal was ready to go through much smoother than the Pierce one thankfully, as Edwin was scheduled to fly in today, meeting them all tomorrow afternoon to sign.

Well, that at least was the intention, until the news that hit this morning.

He hears his personal phone ringing from his bedside table, groaning as he wakes up to the dark room, his eyes adjusting.

He looks over to the phone, his eyes bleary as he grabs it seeing Gerri’s name.

**Fuck he knew she might miss him with him being in LA this week but in the middle of the fucking night?**

He taps the answer button, lying down with the phone to his ear.

“What time is it?” His greeting to her straight to the point, as he closes his eyes.

“Uhm… just after 6? It’s 9 here so… look Roman. It’s hit,” she begins before he cuts her off.

“What’s hit?”

“Your dad’s been arrested. Turn on the news,” she tells him as gently as she possibly can.

“What?” He shouts, his eyes open widely, sitting up quickly to turn on the bedside lamp.

“They pressed charges this morning and they arrested him at his apartment. He’s been charged but it’s mainly for the cover-up of the death of the girl who jumped overboard. Karl’s been charged too. The EEOC wants to have a full investigation into the sexual misconduct investigation; Karl’s evidence was enough to confirm it all,” she divulges as he turns on the news, the video of his father being escorted out of his apartment, Marcia hot on his heels, as the huge headline **_LOGAN ROY ARRESTED ON CHARGES OF CORPORATE NEGLIGENCE_** , trails across the bottom of the screen.

“Rome? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I was just watching the news,” he mumbles, trying to listen to the reporter.

“He’s going to try and get bail, so probably I’m going to have to send someone down there to sort that out. The longer he’s in there, the irater he’s going to get. I would go myself but me being papped down there would be moronic. So, I’ll send William down.”

“So, wait? What the fuck is happening?”

“So, they’ve charged him and Karl. They obviously have enough evidence from the papers I gave Karl for them to go ahead and charge him instead of the investigation with the EEOC first, that will just stack up the charges.”

“Who’s the EEOC?”

“They deal with federal sexual harassment cases against big companies. This one’s a series of quid pro quo cases so they are the ones who investigate it. Hopefully we can get the independent internal investigation started next week so that we can get the input from the cruise’s victims. I’m going to meet with them personally as well, so they know it’s getting taken seriously and don’t get tempted to go public in an inquiry again.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. They will like you.”

“And from what I gather, Karl’s defence is going to be that he did it under duress due to bullying and harassment from Logan. He’s going to talk about all the abuse over the years. Boar on the floor shit, you know. But I need to start looking at how to fuck his defence now. I know there is a lot of grey areas that we could have used. The grey areas of the migrant workers at the ports that all of that is actually in a completely different jurisdiction who are probably a lot more lenient on this. Then the unexplained death showed previous substance abuse issues to cast reasonable doubt. But yeah, just a failure to mention things probably is going to be the best way to play this. Maybe try and blame it on Karl. We could probably get a moron to back up Karl with the Boar on the floor shit. Maybe Greg or Tom? So, if it’s Karl versus Logan, Karl will have the upper hand with some back up witnesses. The new documents don’t mention Karl anyway. Just Logan, Mo, and the outside law firm that handled the NDAs etc., so it looks promising. But they will want me to testify again,” she huffs, walking around the park.

“Wait, why do you need to testify?”

“Because I was there. I was legal counsel for 20 years, but it’s fine. My name wouldn’t be on anything because we used the outside law firm to handle it all. My only involvement was verbal advice to Logan etc. We were always very careful about that. We just need to keep Logan and Karl on side, so they don’t try and name me. And we need to make sure that whoever else is called up, claims they didn’t know anything about it, only Mo, Karl and your dad did. Kendall will probably be called as well. Have you spoken to him?”

“No, not really,” he mumbles, still trying to watch the news.

“Well we might need to try and win him over. The last thing we need is for him to go in there and say everyone knew about it.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Do you think he would go for being brought into the plan? Telling him that we are going to do to sink your dad, get him on board? Maybe offer him a high position in Waystar? He wouldn’t get a position anywhere else.”

“Well, I don’t think the betrayal was about sinking Waystar, if anything he jizzes over the thought of becoming the CEO again. Ultimately, he just wants to sink my dad for all the personal shit. But it’s a bold move bringing him back in, because once my dad is gone and he’s succeeded in burying him, you’ll be the new target after he’s taken me down.”

“All the more reason to keep him close so we can watch him and control it.”

“Yeah. Okay, uhm… I will see what I can do.”

‘Are you sure, Rome? Because I can reach out to him instead?”

“No, no. I can do it.”

“Okay,” she breathes, looking down across the street as the press surround the Waystar Royco skyscraper.

“I need to head in. I need to laisse with Karolina. We might need to think about releasing a statement saying that we knew nothing of the behaviour etc. again. I don’t know. We’ll need to see how it plays out. The press is surrounding the building. Fucking vultures,” she murmurs.

“Be careful,” he comments.

“I will. Which one are you meeting with today?”

“Uhm… Christopher. The one who knows the shit about the streaming sites.”

“Okay. Good luck. Call you later.”

“Okay.”

“Love you, bye,” she says, her breath hitching as she quickens her pace, avoiding a rapid cab as she crosses the street.

“Love you, bye,” he responds quickly, hanging up as it hits him.

**Did she even mean to do that? They were onto love you, bye’s?**

He giggles a little, the smile wipes off his face quickly when he looks back up at the TV.

 **Fuck, it was going to be a long day**.

*****

The day had been long, topped off with the news that Edwin had to move the meeting up, fucking up all their plans for tomorrow, especially considering Roman was due to fly in for it. She had had to delay the idea of releasing a statement about Logan, agreeing with Karolina that they would keep an eye on the opinion pieces; analysing whether they were focussing on Logan or Waystar. There was no use releasing a statement if they didn’t have to. Plus, her cover piece for Forbes had been received well, gaining her a lot of attention and popularity. That may be a saving grace for them due to her concentration on taking the company in a new direction.

Now, however, she had to go home to a stiff martini to try and strategize on what the fuck she was going to tell Edwin if seemed reticent to sign tomorrow because of all this shit.

She picks up the phone, holding it to her ear as she looks out the window of her car, watching the buildings go by.

“Hey,” she hears his voice on the other end of the phone.

“Hey. Are you busy?”

“Nah. Got a business dinner with Rob in a few hours but just… chillin in my hotel room until then.”

“Okay. Listen, Edwin’s moved the meeting up to 9am tomorrow morning.”

“What? What the fuck? Why? It was supposed to be at 12.”

“I don’t know. He said something about having to get back to London ASAP. I don’t know if it’s something to do with the charges against your dad,” she sighs. “I’m on my way home to strategize.”

“Uhm… ok. I was supposed to fly out at here at midnight so I would arrive at JFK for 8.30, but uhm… I could try and fly out earlier? I have that business dinner, though. I can see if I can cancel it?”

“Rome, it’s okay. I can handle it myself. Don’t worry about getting here. It’s just to sign it off.”

“Gerri. The guys a sleazy asshole. I can reschedule with Rob.”

“Roman, I’m a big girl. I’ll probably bring in Frank with me anyway. It took your best seduction to get Rob available. He would be good to get on board; getting the movies from his studio on the platform.”

“Okay uhm. How about I fly out at like 10? I could leave the dinner by like 9 and by the time I get to LAX and we take off,” he shrugs. “Then will sleep on the plane, be at JFK for like 7.30, I should make it.”

She sighs, “all right but if the meeting runs on, don’t rush here. I can handle it myself.”

“I know but we did this together. I want to be there when it goes through,” he reasons.

“Okay,” she sighs again, pushing her head back onto the headrest. “How did it go with Christopher?”

“Oh yeah, really good. He seemed to think it was viable. Said it wouldn’t cost that much to make and considering we already have the distribution rights it could be up soon. It’s a pretty straight forward system. We might just need a little change in design so it’s not blatant copying, so he’s going to work on that. Also, he said we need to think up a brand name. He asked if we wanted to go with Brightstar, to keep on brand, but I think we should maybe create something new. Something a bit more modern, rather than the ancient rapey connotations with Brightstar. I don’t know. Whatcha think?”

“I think you’re right. Brightstar might have the negative connotations with all this shitty press. Might not even be a bad idea to rebrand the parks and cruises as well. Did you have anything in mind?”

“Mmm, I don’t know. A play on Star maybe? Play Star? Watch Star? Star Gaze? I don’t know man. I will leave that up to people who are paid to make up things like this.”

“I think you’re on the right track. You’ve done a good job,” she smiles. Her eyes still closed.

“Thanks,” he sighs, rolling onto his back on the bed. “So, how did it go with the shit with dad?”

She sharply looks at the driver, aware that he could be listening in. “Yeah, it went fine. Uhm… we decided to hold off on the statement for now.”

“Can’t talk?”

“Mhm.”

“In the car?”

“Mhm.”

“How far away are you from your apartment?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes.”

“Will I just lie here and tell you all the dirty things I want to do to you, knowing you can’t say a thing in return?”

“I don’t think that would be a wise choice,” she says, looking at her driver, turning the volume down slightly on her phone.

“I could tell you how much I miss you. How I have a monster hard on from being hardly able to touch you in the last few weeks and how I miss being able to fuck your brains out like we did all night in London?”

“You could but I don’t think that would be beneficial to any of the parties involved,” she says closing her eyes, thinking of that night.

“Well, I think it would be beneficial to me. I can sit here with my hand down my pants, stroking myself as I think of being in between your legs as you squirm in the back seat,” he smirks, touching himself over his pants.

“Mhm,” is all she gives, as she looks out of the window to see how far away she is.

“I want nothing more than to fuck you in the back of that car one day. Put the partition up, my hand up your skirt, touch you through your panties. Maybe get you to straddle me as you grind up against me, then I lie you down and fuck you as you hang onto the door handle behind you.”

“Never going to happen,” she says a little breathy, coughing to try and cover it.

_She has to admit the thought of it was fucking provocative, but they would never ever do that. She couldn’t risk something like that, not with a driver potentially able to hear._

“But you want it to?” He smiles.

“Not the point,” she answers quickly.

“So, you do? You want to be fucked while the driver is only a few feet away, only a little partition between us? You’re a kinky little fuck, Kellman. Aren’t you?”

“You’ve obviously thought very _hard_ about this,” she teases, crossing her legs over to try and ignore the stirring between her legs.

“Yeah, I have,” his voice hitches as he pulls his pants open, palming himself firmly.

“I think that you would need to consider the position your putting yourself in. Do you want to be at the top or the bottom… of the game?”

“You on top, Gerri. Your skirt pushed up, panties grazing against my hard on, my tongue all over your chest,” he pants, tugging on his dick vigorously.

She smiles, tucking herself into the side, so she’s pressed up to the door behind the driver, her tight skirt riding up as she caresses the skin on the inside of her thigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she does it.

“I think that would be most appropriate. The little weasel always did need steering in the right direction,” she says, continuing her light strokes against the most sensitive parts of her skin as she opens her eyes to gauge the driver.

“Ugh. I want you so badly. Just touch yourself, Gerri. He’ll never know. Touch your clit screaming for my mouth,” he whispers, his breath ragged.

“How do you know she isn’t already?” She offers, smirking as he moans loudly in response.

“What else are you doing? You wish I was there?”

“Absolutely. I think I would have a lot of use for that,” she looks out the window as the car slows down, her apartment entrance appearing, removing her hand from under her skirt quickly and pulling the hem down.

“Gerri, fuck,” he breathes.

“Thanks, Don. See you in the morning,” she smiles, opening the door.

“Goodnight, Ms Kellman,” Don booms.

“Oh my god, are you home?” He asks as she slams the door shut.

“Yeah,” she says pacing quickly up the stone steps as a neighbour holds the door open for her.

“Are you creaming in your panties for me?”

She mouths a ‘thank you’ to him as she points to the phone, smiling.

“Wish I was there? Going to get your vibrator to replace me?”

“Maybe. Yes. And that’s for me to know,” she answers each question as the door to the empty elevator opens for her to get in.

“Don’t hold out on me, Ger. I’m ok with being replaced with machinery,” he tells her, trying to slow his movements to wait for her.

“What do you want to hear? That I use it every night as I think of you?”

“Yes,” he hisses.

“Well, you just heard it,” she answers, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder as she rummages through the purse hanging off her shoulder for her keys, balancing her briefcase over her wrist also.

“Do you though? Do you think of me?” He asks sweetly, palming himself slowly.

“Yeah. I do,” she smiles as she gets the keys, the elevator door chiming and opening.

“I really love you,” he says sweetly. “I miss waking up with you.”

She hesitates when she gets to her door, smiling at his pure honesty.

“Hold on,” she offers, not willing to say anything in the hallway of her apartment building, putting the key in the door to open it. 

“Hold on?” His voice raising in exasperation. “I’m baring my heart to you, you cold hearted bitch.”

She gets into her foyer, depositing her purse and briefcase onto the chair by the door, huffing.

“I was in the middle of the hallway outside my door!” She raises her voice, sighing again. “I love you too, Rome. And I miss you in all ways,” she returns gently, as she kicks her shoes off, locking her door, grabbing her laptop bag, and heading to her living room.

“Yeah? Fuck Gerri. It’s just not fair. I want to be with you,” he whines, his hand stilling against him.

“I know, honey. The press is dying down though. Maybe we can start doing ‘work meetings’ or something at apartments. Maybe you can charm your doorman,” she smiles as she puts her briefcase on the sofa.

“Big Al? I think I could work on him. For you, I would send his kids to college to buy his silence.”

“Please don’t,” she says firmly, leaning to turn on the lamp by the sofa.

“I would though.”

“And that’s very sweet but don’t. How about instead you tell me what else you would do in that car now that I can do something about it?” She smiles, lifting her skirt and shimmying her panties down her legs before sitting on the couch, pushing her briefcase to the side.

“You like the car scenario, huh?” He starts palming himself again.

“It’s an appealing fantasy,” she smiles, putting her legs on her coffee table and lying against the couch back.

“It could be a reality,” he suggests.

“Mmm… I don’t know. Convince me. What would you do?” She asks, pulling her skirt up as it slips down her thighs.

“Well I would kiss the fuck out of you. That’s obvious.”

“Uhu,” she puts him on speaker phone, sitting the phone on the large pillow next to her.

“Then I would get up under your skirt. Hopefully you’re bare legged. You would try and stop my hand from going any further because of the stupid driver but I would run my hands on the inside of your thighs, and try and distract you with my tongue,” he strokes himself more firmly.

“I thought you wanted me on top? How would I get there?” She asks running her hands across the inside of her thighs as he suggested.

“Well, I’d obviously drive you so fucking crazy that you would just snap and take over. You’d just jump on my lap because you were so turned on,” he smirks.

“Oh, obviously,” she smiles, running her hand up to the heat at her centre, pressing against her clit. “You know what I’d do?”

“Tell me,” he whispers, pumping his dick.

“I’d fucking ride you into oblivion,” she grits out.

“Yeah?” he whinges, continuously rubbing.

“Oh yeah,” she groans. “I would pull up my skirt, unbuckle your belt and pull you out, and grind myself against you,” she grunts, pushing the juices around, rubbing herself firmer now.

“Yeah, you would,” his breath keeps hitching.

“Then when you were good and hard,” she whispers hoarsely.

“So, fucking hard for you,” he continues.

“I would just sink right down on you. Fuck you right there in the back of the car. I wouldn’t wait for you to lie me across the back seat,” her breathing becoming ragged.

“No nonsense,” he breathes.

“No. I would take you for all your worth as you fill me up. Hitting that spot inside me that makes me squeal,” she moans, throwing her head back, her eyes closed, and her hips rolling against her fingers.

“Fuck, Gerri. I love hearing you,” he groans, he strokes furiously.

“I love hearing you, Rome. Come for me, Rome. Imagine I’m sitting on top of you now and you’re buried deep inside me. My tongue in your mouth. Oh, Rome. I want you inside me.”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“Your hand on my breast.”

“Yeah.”

“You filling me up as I ride you,” her voice becoming progressively higher as her orgasm builds.

“Yes, Gerri.”

“Your hand drifting down to touch my clit.”

**Oh my god. Hearing Gerri saying fucking clit.**

“Gerri. I’m gonna explode.”

“Explode, honey. Take me with you. Explode inside me.”

“Fucckkkkk,” he groans as he ejaculates. “I’m coming,” he tells her, his hips gyrating into his hand.

“Yes, baby. Yes.”

_She’s so close. Just a minute more._

“Did you come for me?” She asks him, her voice high as she rubs frantically, her hips bucking against her wildly.

“Yeah, babe. I did. I came right inside you. I wish I was lapping you up right now,” he whispers, as the last of his seed spills over him.

She moans loudly, spilling over the edge.

“Ugh, Roman,” she shouts. “Right there,” she continues, moaning over and over again as she rides out her orgasm.

**Music to his fucking ears.**

He lies listening to her, a grin on his face as he listens to her come down.

“God. Maybe the car thing isn’t such a bad idea,” she huffs, pushing her hair away from her face.

“I don’t know if I could handle how hot it is,” he huffs, lying exhausted in the bed.

She laughs a little, lying back against the back of the couch.

“Babe? Since when do you call me that?” She teases.

“I don’t. It just happened. Why, do you hate it?”

“Not really. Just surprised me. You don’t usually call me anything like that,” she quips.

“Never knew what to. Me calling you honey or baby like you do for me kind of gave me the creeps,” he tells her honestly.

“You want me to stop calling you it?” She asks surprised.

“No. I said me calling you it. Nah, I like honey. It’s cute. And you only call me baby during sex which is the biggest fucking turn on. You want me to not call you babe?”

“I don’t mind. Would keep it to a minimal though. Only when it feels right. Call me it in front of anyone ever though and I would need to brutally murder you,” she laughs.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She hums, pushing her skirt back down over her knees.

“So, what happened with the statement? You decided to delay it?”

“Yeah. We’re going to wait and see what the general reports are on it. If they sway more towards Logan, then we are going to let him take the heat. If it’s more Waystar, we release another statement maybe. Just reiterating that we didn’t know anything about it. Your dad got bail though. Two million.”

“Pennies,” he mumbles.

“Yeah. So, we will review it again tomorrow after the meeting.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal with the Sheriff of Strip o Gram? You think he’s got the shits over this thing with dad?”

“I don’t know. Could be a genuine. Could be cold feet about handing his company over to another with scandals flying left, right, and centre.”

“Hmmm. You going to flirt your way out of it?”

“Would it bother you if I did?”

“Ehm… fuck yes.”

She laughs, playing with her nails. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to flirt my way out of anything. I might soothe his worries but other than that…”

“Well, considering I’m going to be there, it would be a bit awkward. Unless he wants a threesome.”

“I don’t think he could handle you.”

“Yeah. He would jizz in his pants before he had my shirt undone.”

She laughs again.

“Okay. I need to go and start strategizing. Go and do something useful. Prep for your dinner.”

“I am prepping. All I need to bring is my charm. I’m practising on you just now. How my doing?”

“I’m blown away,” she says flatly, stretching to grasp her briefcase, pulling it towards her and undoing the clasp.

“I can’t help it. It’s a gift.”

She hums again, pulling her laptop out of the bag. “Okay. I need to get work done.”

“Stay on the phone with me,” he whines, stroking his hand across his stomach.

“I have work to do,” she says turning the laptop on and sitting it to the side.

“You don’t need to speak to me. Just let me listen.”

“You’re a needy little slime puppy, aren’t you?” She laughs in a baby voice, standing with the phone to walk to the bar to make a martini, as he smiles.

“I like hearing you type. It’s soothing.”

“Okay. But don’t distract me,” she says picking up the bottle, pouring it into the shaker.

“I might nap.”

“Set an alarm, then.”

“Already done it. What you think I was trying to do before you called?” He sighs, turning onto his side, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close as he puts her on loudspeaker.

“My thoughts go only to one possibility, but we already took care of that,” she smiles, shaking the cocktail and pouring it into the glass.

“Mhm. Night,” he murmurs.

“Night, night, little pup,” she offers in a light lilt sipping her cocktail as she walks back to the couch; ready to get to work.

*****

Gerri is in the large conference room, stressfully looking at her watch as Frank tries to soothe Edwin. She had woken to a series of manic texts from Roman stressed about the jet taking off late due to ‘adverse weather conditions’ in LA.

**_01.32_ **

**_Roman: It’s fucking fog. Don’t they have radars for this shit?_ **

**_01.32_ **

**_Roman: Do they stop flying fucking fighter jets in wars when it’s fucking foggy as well? Jesus Christ. I’m going to hijack the plane._ **

****

He hadn’t taken off until midnight in LA, arriving into JFK just after 8.30am. He had called her cursing, asking if he could just get a helicopter to fly him over. She had difficulty making him understand why that might be a pointless use of resources to any average person and any media outlet.

It was 9.20am and he was still stuck in NYC rush hour traffic, the tunnel backed up as he frantically messaged her obscenities and threats of abuse and murder of everyone from the driver to the New York City Department of Transportation.

“I can assure you that no one in this organisation knew anything of the misconduct. We were just as shocked as you were of the new evidence,” Frank soothes across the table as Edwin rubs at his chin.

“It’s pretty bad publicity though. How do I know this isn’t going to sink a business I worked my whole life building up?”

“Edwin,” she begins softly. “We have been reviewing the media and our sales in our parks and cruises for the last 24 hours and I can assure you that there has been not even a small dip in any kind of sales. The publicity has completely bypassed Waystar and only focussed on Logan. This was an isolated issue with only Logan and a few selective people in the loop to my knowledge. He even used an outside law firm which is lucky because I never would have agreed to that. I would have had the ethical duty to report anything like that.”

Edwin hums, tapping his pen against the contract, pursing his lips.

“Edwin, the publicity we’ve been getting since Gerri took over has been very responsive. All the reports point to Waystar being more popular than it ever has been due to Gerri’s determination to take this company to a new level and ensuring that an investigation takes place into the organisation’s policies.”

She pipes up, taking her opportunity.

“It’s beginning on Monday. I’ve already arranged for a new independent legal team to investigate. I contacted the EEOC this morning offering full cooperation for anything they wished to do and offered for them to investigate also. And I already have some of the victims confirmed to meet with me at the beginning of next week. It all just depends on whether you trust me to take your business in the right direction,” she smiles at him.

“But you’re only interim CEO, what happens when you’re replaced?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Frank smiles, leaning back in his chair, raising his eyebrows at Gerri.

“Whether that happens or not is the decision of the Board and the shareholders. However, I can assure that if I am replaced all the correct procedures will be in place so that your business continues to thrive,” she says clasping her hands, watching him as he looks at her thumb caressing the back of her hand. “So, what do you say?”

He sighs, leaning back in the chair and looking at the contract again.

“Okay,” Edwin decides, leaning forward and picking up the pen as he signs the contract.

She closes her eyes taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly as she smiles, looking at Frank who has a wide grin on this face.

“You won’t regret it,” she smiles as her phone continues to vibrate against the table.

_She feels bad that Roman isn’t here but with Edwin withering back and forth she had to take the sign when she could get it. He would be disappointed, but she would soothe him later over some champagne._

“So, what are you going to do with yourself now that you’re free with a wad of cash?” Frank laughs, drumming his fingers on the desk.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Edwin responds, still signing the various pages. “Travel a little more maybe.”

“A girl in every port, eh?” Frank giggles.

“Mmm, something like that. I do have my eye on a special one right now though,” he smiles, as Gerri grimaces internally, Frank laughing completely missing that Edwin’s referring to Gerri.

_Thank fuck this deal was over. She couldn’t stand having to deal with this anymore._

She smiles awkwardly though, sliding the contract over to her once he has signed it to check all the correct lines have been signed.

“Well that seems to be us. Thank you very much. It was a pleasure doing business with you Edwin,” she says as she stands up, placing her phone in her suit pocket, both of them following her. She moves away from the table as Frank moves to Edwin, shaking his hand firmly.

“Are you going to stick around New York? See the sights? I can recommend a great restaurant for you?” Frank asks, as Gerri holds the contract firmly to her chest, watching the exchange between them.

“No, I have to get back to London on an urgent matter,” he gives as Frank nods, taking a step back.

Gerri stepping forwards to shake Edwin’s hand, the last one she would hopefully ever have to make. 

“Gerri, I was wondering if I could have a word privately?” He asks her as he shakes her hand.

_Fuck. Here we go again. At least this time she could rebuff him._

“Uhm,” she looks to Frank. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll leave you to it. Was a pleasure, Edwin,” Frank offers him as he backs out of the room.

“And you,” he smiles pleasantly, waiting for Frank to leave the room.

“Is there somewhere a little more private we could talk?” He asks, still having not let go of her hand.

“Uhm, it’s pretty private in here. No one can hear into this room,” she laughs nervously, withdrawing her hand from his, grasping the contract tightly to her.

“I mean without prying eyes,” he gestures with his head, looking out of huge windows surrounding the conference room.

_What? Did he think she was going to fall into his arms if they were in private?_

“Uh, yeah sure. Uhm… if you want to come up to my office?” She offers leading the way out of the conference room and along the corridors as he follows her.

Finally, she walks up towards her office, Edwin hot on her heels, as she approaches Claire first.

“Claire, can you get these down to legal as soon as, so we can get them filed,” she orders passing the documents to her.

“Of course,” Claire responds, smiling to Edwin also.

“Thanks,” she gives turning back to Edwin. “Uhm, we can go to the south tank,” she smiles, turning away from him and leading the way past the desks in the middle of the room as she catches Karolina’s eye. She smiles and rises her eyebrows as she leads him up the short corridor to the south tank room.

*****

Roman’s in the elevator, staring at his messages to her, trying to figure out why the fuck she hasn’t responded to him for the past half hour.

He taps the metal wall nervously, grunting as the floor stops on several levels so people can get in and out, whilst checking his watch frustrated.

Finally, when he gets onto the executive floor, bypassing people as he runs to the conference room; finding it empty. He looks around, looking for any flunky to question when he approaches a girl at her desk.

“Yo, where they at? Kellman and fuck face?” He asks her pointing to conference room.

“Uhm, they left maybe five minutes ago? Not sure where,” she tells him.

“What way?”

She points to the corridor, “towards the executive offices.”

“Thanks,” he says turning around swiftly and half jogging to the offices until he sees Karolina talking to some blonde chick.

“Hey. You seen Gerri?”

Karolina looks up at him confused, “uhm… yeah, she was just here, went down that corridor.”

“Edwin gone? Did he sign?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she looks over his shoulder distracted before she could continue as Frank approaches.

“Hey, you finally got here! Missed all the action,” Frank smiles, putting his hands in his pockets.

He mock laughs before becoming serious, “so what happened?”

“Nothing. He was reticent; we talked him into it, and he signed.” Frank tells him as he nods.

**He’s disappointed but at least they got him to sign.**

However, Frank begins chuckling again, “he asked to speak to Gerri privately though. Wonder what that’s about?”

“Maybe that’s where she took him. They probably went to the south tank,” Karolina eyes Roman suspiciously, waiting for his reaction.

“The south tank? What? He’s still here?”

“Yeah, she took him in there a few minutes ago,” Karolina tells him gently.

**What the fuck would they need to go to the fucking south tank for?! Their south tank?!**

His stomach drops, his mouth dry.

**However, he needs to try and keep his cool.**

“Oh, uhm…” Roman starts, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Cool. Uhm, I think I will just… go say hi,” he smiles nervously, walking as slow as he can towards the corridor leading to the south tank.

*****

She moves slowly into the room, taking a seat in one of the chairs as he follows, standing a few feet away from her.

“So, what can I do for you?” She smiles clasping her hands on the table, as he smiles roguishly.

“Well,” he says putting his hands in his pockets. “I would like to see about possibly seeing you again in a much more personal setting now that this deal has gone through.”

“Well Edwin, I’m very flattered,” she begins before he cuts her off.

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Gerri. Anyone would be mad not to try and snap you up,” he laughs lightly, moving towards her and reaching out to touch her hair before she pulls back, standing up.

“Edwin,” she says as he begins to back off. “I’m honestly very flattered, however, I’m just not interested.”

She walks around her chair, standing a few feet away from him perching herself on the edge of the table as he leans against the wall in front of her.

“Why? What’s the issue?” He grimaces, almost mocking her.

_What? Did the guy think it would be inconceivable that someone wouldn’t be interested? What a fucking ego maniac._

“It’s nothing to do with you. I just am not interested,” she smiles, clasping her hands in front of her.

_Did she need more reason?_

“Come on, Gerri,” he smirks, moving closer to her, standing over her feet as she stands up slowly, leaning back as far away from him as possible with the desk pressed up behind her. “Just one date? We can go anywhere in the world. Rome, Paris, Vienna, Kyoto. You name it and I will take you there. Wine you and dine you. Show you more romance than you’ve ever had in your whole life,” he sings, moving closer to her as she presses her hand against his chest to stop him coming any closer.

“I’m sorry but –,” she begins before she’s interrupted.

_And there it is. The one thing that has never happened before._

He pounces on her, his mouth battering against hers as she gasps at the force and shock of it, falling back against the table, grasping his shoulders so she doesn’t hurt herself on impact from her fall as her chest surges within; he taking the opportunity of her gasp to slip his tongue inside her mouth as his hands find her waist, pulling himself firmly against her.

She misses the sound of the door opening as the shock of falling hits her. Just as she is about to push him away, she hears his voice.

“Oh fuck,” Roman shouts. “Uhm,” he says as she pushes Edwin away, looking at Roman’s sunken face, the heart break in his eyes, as he struggles to get his words out. Edwin, pulling away from her slightly, smirking at Roman.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he whispers before turning around and quickly leaving the room before she can say anything. She sighs, closing her eyes, as her stomach drops at the thought of what an entanglement she was now in.

She pushes Edwin back firmly, pushing up off the desk, and creating distance between them, her face like thunder.

“Listen here and listen good. I am not interested. Do you think it’s fucking acceptable to just jump on someone who has blatantly told you no?” She looks at him, fire in her eyes.

“You didn’t seem uninterested in London,” he smirks, playing with his cufflinks.

“Well I was. I met with you to discuss business. It wasn’t a fucking date! I gave you no indication that I was interested other than eating a meal and listen to you talk.”

_What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Why couldn’t he take no as an answer. In all her years she had never had to deal with someone this forward._

“Come on, Gerri. You’re a stunning woman. You should have someone capable of taking care of your needs,” moving closer to her as she backs away.

“My needs are plenty taken care of. I don’t need you to fulfil that,” she shouts exasperated.

“Oh? So that’s the issue. You already have someone else? That makes so much more sense,” he nods.

“Is that what you need to hear?” she asks exasperated. “That I am unavailable and taken up with another man for you to now accept that I am unavailable to you? Is me not being fucking interested not enough for you to stop pursuing me?! God help anyone who ends up the subject of your desires,” she shouts. “Now let me make this plain and fucking simple. I AM NOT INTERESTED. Now get the fuck out of my building!”

As she screams, the door opens slightly, with Karolina sliding in and closing the door behind her.

“Is everything okay?” She asks looking from Gerri to Edwin, watching Edwin’s wide eyes and Gerri’s anger, her chest heaving.

“Come on, Gerri,” he says lightly.

Gerri looks to Edwin pointedly, challenging him.

_HOW IS HE STILL NOT GETTING THIS?_

“Are you going to leave or am I going to have to get security to escort you out?” She continues her death stare, her hands tightening on the back of a chair.

“Fine,” he shrugs, laughing. “Your fucking loss,” he spits at her as he walks towards Karolina.

“Doubt it,” she shouts back, as she storms across the room to pick up the telephone, battering in a number quickly.

“Hi Francis, Edwin Grantham has just left the south tank. Can you see to it that he leaves this building and doesn’t return, please? Thank you,” she says slamming the phone down as she leans on the table, closing her eyes, and sighing.

“What happened?” Karolina asks approaching her slowly.

Gerri turns around, perching on the edge of the desk again, running her hands up her face under her glasses, covering her eyes.

“He asked me out. I said no and when I remained unconvinced, he pounced on me,” she sighs, pulling her hands away to look at Karolina.

“What?!” Karolina shouts loudly, “we should fucking call someone.”

“It was just a kiss,” she holds her hands up to abate Karolina. “Roman interrupted it before it went any further.”

_Roman. What the fuck was she going to do about Roman?_

“Yeah, that’s why I came in here. I saw him storm to the elevator. I thought you had shouted at him or something. Then when I came to check on you, I heard you shouting at Edwin,” she shrugs, looking at Gerri awkwardly.

Gerri’s hands cover her face as she sighs again.

_Roman obviously misinterpreted what he had seen. She was going to have to try and get a hold of him. But thank fuck Edwin had signed the deal before all of that or the whole thing would be fucked._

“Something you want to tell me, Gerri?” Karolina asks expectantly.

_Fuck._

“No,” she muffles behind her hands.

Gerri removes her hands from her face, looking at Karolina who is offering her a challenging eyebrow.

“I’m not an idiot, you know,’ Karolina tells her. “All the one-minute south tank meetings every so often. The little looks during the conference.”

“Does anyone else know?” Gerri bites her lip.

_What’s the point in denying it? Karolina isn’t stupid. She knows she can trust her._

“Don’t think so,” she says shaking her head.

“Does anyone else suspect?”

“Nah, everyone just thinks you’re a good team and when you go to the south tank they are just happy when they’re not in your viewpoint for a few minutes so they can take a breather,” she smiles, noting Gerri’s eyes widen.

“Fuck,” she sighs.

“Roman though? Really?” Karolina asks, scrunching her nose up.

“It was a surprise to me too,” Gerri smiles, pressing her hands into the desk on either side of her hips.

“I suppose it makes sense,” she shrugs.

“What?” Gerri looks at her confused.

“He needs direction and stability. You need to give direction and stability. Match made in heaven,” she shrugs.

Gerri raises her eyebrows, “it’s a little more than that but I won’t bore you with the details.”

Karolina raises her eyebrows, smiling, suggesting she would absolutely love to be bored with the fucking details.

“I can presume you’re going to keep this confidential?” Gerri asks her pleadingly.

“Course. I would have preferred if you had told me sooner so I could have kept an eye on it and a fall out plan prepped for if it leaks,” she rocks her head from one shoulder to the other.

“It won’t leak,” Gerri looks at her sharply. “Only three people know about this Karolina.”

“Okay, okay, sure,” Karolina says holding her hands up.

“I mean it Karolina. We will be terminated because of the notification clause.”

Karolina looks confusedly in response.

“Then why don’t you just notify them?” She asks, as Gerri rolls her eyes.

“No seriously. It’s not as crazy as you think. People will be shocked, maybe make a few cracks at first and then it’ll be over in a few weeks. We can play the feminism card in the media. You as the older woman who can have everything a man has. Younger man, including a Roy. Making more money than him. The executive woman who can have just as much as a man. So just notify them like it just started. You didn’t appoint Roman; Logan did before he left. It’s not like he had an advantage being with you that he didn’t already have when his dad was the CEO. It’s not as bad as you think,” she shrugs.

_She had been considering this. She just didn’t know if she was ready. She would need to tell her daughters who would go crazy. She would need to take all the cougar hits that were bound to come. She knew she couldn’t do it with Logan in her ear anyway. She would need to wait until after he was out, but Karolina didn’t know that. They would need to just be careful until then and see how she felt at the time._

“I’ll think about it,” Gerri offers with scepticism. 

“We can put a slant on it. Working closer together since become CEO and COO. It developed into a natural relationship. Can’t help who you fall for shit. Very demanding job, unlike any other and very few understand how that is. Not to mention the bond of the hurt over what’s happened with Logan etc. It could work,” she nods.

“Look, let me think it over. Just you focus on keeping it out of the media and out of office gossip right now, okay? Ham up the jokes to make it ridiculous if you have to,” she instructs her forcefully.

“Of course,” she responds with a shrug.

Gerri sighs again, taking her phone out of her pockets and seeing nothing from Roman.

“I need to go find Roman. He’ll think it was something it wasn’t,” she says standing up and looking down at her phone.

“Okay,” Karolina says moving to the door and leading the way out of the room.

She clicks on his contact as she walks through the corridor to her office; looking through the glass of his to make sure he wasn’t in there, before calling him as she enters her own office.

_Voicemail. Fuck._

She moves to her purse, taking out her personal cell phone and checking that. _No notifications either._

She calls his personal number which also goes directly to voicemail also.

_Fuck._

She sits in her chair, staring at her phones, wondering what she should do.

_He could be anywhere in the whole of New York City right now._

She picks up her personal cell phone, typing out a message which she sends out, noticing it doesn’t deliver.

**_Call me when you get this._ **

She looks at it again, her panic rising within her.

_Where the fuck could he be? Maybe he was out walking?_

She types out another message.

**_Love you._ **


	6. Scenes from a Broken Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Gerri in italics.  
> Thoughts of Roman in bold.

“Anything?” Karolina asks walking into Gerri’s office that evening.

She looks to both of her phones, clicking them to check the home screen.

“Nothing,” Gerri answers, placing her head in her hands and huffing.

“Security in the foyer said they didn’t see where he went when he left. We sent someone by his apartment. There was no answer and the doorman said they hadn’t seen him since he left this morning. Do you want me to phone Siobhan? I could try Kendall?”

“No!” Gerri protests quickly, her head snapping up at Karolina. “No. We can’t draw attention to this. He’ll turn up once he’s calmed down,” she assures Karolina hesitantly, biting her lip.

“All right. Well, uhm, I’m going to head home. Let me know if he turns up and if there is anything I need to clean up,” she raises her eyebrows at Gerri.

Gerri nods, pressing her clasped hands to her mouth, looking out of the large window to the dark sky, lights from the numerous skyscrapers penetrating it.

_This was fucking torture. Why couldn’t he just have stuck around and listened to her? She forgets how immature he can be at times. She’s having to suffer for something she hadn’t even done and it wasn’t fucking fair. She’s aware that this could be due to his disorder but if she’s honest she doesn’t know how to deal with things like this._

She looks down at her laptop opening up a new tab and googling **_Borderline Personality Disorder for –_**

 _She hesitates as **Partners**_ appears as an option alongside family and friends.

_Well that’s what she is._

She clicks the suggestion, opening the first link, scrolling through the first few paragraphs.

**_Do you feel like you have to tiptoe around your loved one?_ **

**_Do you feel like you can’t win?_ **

**_Do you feel manipulated by fear, guilt, or outrageous behavior?_ **

****

_She can’t say she had felt that way at all. She doesn’t have to tiptoe around him, if anything he always wants her honesty, and to be honest if anyone was always the winner it was her. She couldn’t say she felt manipulated either; she had experienced a great deal of manipulation tactics from Logan and countless others over the years. If anything, Roman wore his heart on his sleeve. Maybe they just had a different dynamic than most others with this did? Maybe their relationship was still too much in its infancy to be this bad? Or maybe he had come a long way with his therapist?_

She continues reading as the page goes on.

**_ Communicating with someone with BPD _ **

**_People in a close relationship with a borderline adult often liken talking with their loved one to arguing with a small child._ **

****

She smirks as she reads that.

_Looks like she’s finally found the right place._

**_Their fear of abandonment can cause them to overreact to any perceived slight, no matter how small. Listening to your loved one and acknowledging their feelings is one of the best ways to help someone with BPD calm down._ **

**_People with BPD need validation and acknowledgement of the pain they’re struggling with. Listen to the emotion your loved one is trying to communicate without getting bogged down in attempting to reconcile the words being used._ **

****

_Well if anything sounded like Roman it was that._

She continues skimming the page until she sees the part on boundaries; something she had warred with in the past.

**_ Setting Boundaries _ **

**_Talk to your loved one about boundaries at a time when you’re both calm, not in the heat of an argument. Decide what behavior you will and will not tolerate from the person and make those expectations clear._ **

****

**_Do…_ **

  * **_Calmly reassure the person with BPD when setting limits. Say something like, “I love you and I want our relationship to work, but I can’t handle the stress caused by your behavior. I need you to make this change for me.”_**



****

**_Don’t…_ **

  * **_Tolerate abusive behavior. No one should have to put up with verbal abuse or physical violence._**
  * **_Enable the person with BPD by protecting them from the consequences of their actions. If your loved one won’t respect your boundaries and continues to make you feel unsafe, then you may need to leave._**



****

_She considers the information, a lot of it pertaining to someone that sounds a lot worse than Roman. He would never get violent with her; she doesn’t think he would ever get violent with anyone. That she knows in her heart. He was like a lost boy at times, like he was reverting back to being under Logan’s thumb as a child. It makes much more sense reading this, considering that his behaviour was common for people who had this disorder. When she sees him, she would need to set boundaries because this she couldn’t take. She felt riddled with anxiety, afraid that he was out doing something ridiculous that would bring him to harm. She couldn’t take the anxiety involved in that. He would need to agree to communicate better in the future when he was hurt or she didn’t know if she could continue this relationship, because she can’t go through this again. She doesn’t think she has the strength._

She heads home not long after, phoning him a few more times, reaching his voicemail again. She had been afraid of leaving a voicemail, the fear that it could somehow be tapped or leaked or something. But as she lies in her bed hours later, the news blaring in the background simply for a distraction, she phones again, having a change of heart as she mutes the television, listening to the automated voice ask her to leave a message, speaking when she hears the beep.

“Rome, honey. Please call me,” she starts pleadingly. “It was a misunderstanding. It wasn’t what you think it was. Just text me or phone me or tell me where you are so I can explain, okay? I’m worried. And I love you. And just call me, okay?” She finishes weakly, hitting the hang up button as she looks at the news again, trying to create any kind of distraction.

She’s woken late in the night by her phone ringing, having drifted off watching the news. It jolts her awake as she jumps up abruptly, the ringtone blaring from its place on her mattress, hearing the noise from the television also. She looks down to her personal phone, seeing his name appear. She panics, fumbling her phone in her hand to answer as she tries to also reach for the remote to mute the television.

“Roman?!” She shouts hoarsely down the phone as she answers, but she struggles to hear anything on the other end of the phone, the loud background noise all she can hear. “Roman?!” she shouts into the phone again.

“Gerri,” she hears his voice slurred down the phone.

“Roman, where are you?”

“Gerri,” he slurs again, the phone muffling and then thumping as she strains to listen, hearing static, thumps, and fumbles in the background.

“Hey, is this Gerri?” A young girls voice comes down the phone.

“Who’s this?” She fires back, “where’s Roman?”

“He’s here at Ken’s house. You should probably come and get him. He’s wasted,” she answers, sounding a little exasperated if Gerri where to put a name to it.

“I’m on my way. Keep him there, do you hear me?” She demands, throwing the covers off herself.

“Yeah, whatever,” she hears as the phone hangs up.

“Little fucking bitch,” she mutters into the room getting her clothing together to change.

******

“Just wait here, Don,” she instructs as she looks up to the entrance of Kendall’s apartment building. A few people swaying on the steps, smoking cigarettes and god knows what else.

“Yes, ma’am,” he responds as she opens the door stepping out onto the street and slamming the door behind her.

She puts her hands in her pockets walking up the stone steps to Kendall’s apartment, evading the few people shouting loudly to each other there. She walks up to the tired looking concierge.

“Long night?” She asks with a kind smile.

“Yeah. One of the residents is having a wild party. I have all the other residents complaining, the police are going to get called, and just I had to clean up sick. So, it’s been a night,” she smiles sadly. “How can I help you?”

“Well unfortunately I had to come and rescue my b–, colleague from that party if we are referring to Kendall Roy?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” she smiles.

“Could you point me in the direction of his apartment?”

“Penthouse,” she smiles.

“Thank you. I hope your night gets a little easier,” she taps the desk before heading towards the elevator.

When she finally reaches the floor, the front door is lying wide open with music blaring within. The place is packed, and she can’t hide her grimace as the smell of a mix of cigarettes, marijuana, beer, and body odour hits her.

She taps a tall man’s shoulder squeezing by him through the front door as she tries to manoeuvre between people to see if she could see Roman, or Kendall, or anyone she recognises.

She ends up in the middle of the living room, tip toeing to look over strangers’ heads, straining to look at the open doors to the balcony when she hears a loud shout behind her.

“GERRI! GERRI ALERT!”

She turns around to see Greg standing with his hands in the air holding a beer as he is surrounded by a group of people she doesn’t really recognise.

She offers an awkward smile, squeezing past people to get to him.

“Hi Greg,” she shouts over the noise.

“Gerri! What are you doing here? Could I offer thee a cool beverage?” He giggles, clearly a little bit drunk.

“No, thanks. Have you seen Ken or Roman?”

“Uhm,” he shouts really loudly, using his huge height so look around. “I’m not sure about Roman, but Ken was just here…”

She turns around looking at where he was, seeing Ken slide out from the balcony.

“KEN!” He shouts loudly, waving his hands in the air, beer sploshing out of his bottle, as she steps to the side to avoid it, looking up at him as if he were crazy.

“Greg! Be careful! This is fucking Valentino!” She shouts as she pulls her coat further around her.

“Sorry,” he shouts, touching her jacket awkwardly to make sure he hasn’t spilled anything over it as Ken makes their way over to them.

“Gerri’s here!” He shouts excitedly as Ken approaches.

“Hey Gerri,” Ken hums, sniffing and wiping his nose as he says it. “What brings you here?”

“I’m looking for your brother, to get him out of here before the police shows up and he causes us a fucking scandal,” she declares narrowing her eyes at him. “Where is he?”

“Uhm… I don’t know,” he says looking around. “He was upset earlier. Showed up on my doorstep. Something about a broken heart,” he shrugs, as she closes her eyes wincing, her stomach dropping. “He was kicking around with some blonde. Maybe try one of the bedrooms?”

Her eyes widen.

_The fucking bedroom? He’s just jumped into bed with some girl?_

She can feel the saliva collecting in her mouth, her stomach churning as the feeling of throwing up seems quite imminent.

“Where are the bedrooms?” She asks firmly with raised eyebrows.

“What? You’re just gonna barge in there when he could be balls deep in some pussy?” Ken laughs looking at Greg and the two other guys spectating for some back up in the joke, whilst Gerri winces.

“Yes, I fucking am. Roman is on his way to making something of himself and I don’t want him fucking that up by ending up in a crack den at rock bottom. You might want to think about getting a grip and doing the same. Now where are the bedrooms?” She affirms aggressively, giving him her finest death stare.

“Upstairs,” he responds quietly, pointing to the staircase in the corner.

“Thank you,” she says firmly, turning her back on them and squeezing past people to the stairway.

She stops halfway up the open staircase, looking down at the whole party to see if she can take one last glance to see if he is down there.

_Of all of the erratic behaviour she had considered he may have attempted as a cause of this, cheating wasn’t one of them. She can feel the emotion building up inside her at the thought of it. The thought of him with some young girl, trying to find his way to engage with sex. She didn’t even consider he might be able to have sex normally now. She didn’t even consider if it was a fluke with her, or he had perhaps exposed himself to it enough now that he could actually engage in it normally now. Maybe it wasn’t the full act. He always said himself it was what was going on in his head. Maybe he was too drunk to think or was just doing something kinky enough to get through it. She could see him thinking and eye for an eye would be a good resolution. Just the thought of it gives her anxiety like she has never had before. She never would have thought he would do that._

She opens the first door hesitantly to a dark room, finding it empty, sighing in relief that at least she hadn’t found her worst nightmare. She moves to the next door finding it locked, she knocks on the door.

“Someone’s in here,” she hears a young girls voice shout back, echoing in the room as the toilet flushes.

She takes a deep breath. _A bathroom. She would come back._

She moves to the next two rooms, finding them empty also. She goes to the last room, wondering if the girl she spoke to on the phone even took her advice and made him stay put.

However, when she reaches the last room, she opens the door finding a passed out Roman lying on the bed… himself.

She wishes she could feel relief but the fact he’s passed out, sprawled on his back, completely still, doesn’t make her feel any better.

She shuts the door behind her, turning the light on and moving quickly towards the bed, sitting on its edge as she puts her hand on his chest to make sure its’s still moving. She gets some kind of comfort that it rises and falls slowly, but she can smell the alcohol off of him and she knows it’s going to be a rough ride.

“Roman,” she whispers, rubbing her hand firmly against his chest, however, he doesn’t stir. “Roman,” she says more firmly, as he stirs slightly though not waking at all.

_Okay. She’s done with this._

She stands up, putting her knee on the bed and leaning over him, shaking both his shoulders.

“Roman,” she shouts, shaking him until he begins stirring, waking up a little.

“Gerri?” He mumbles with a slur, one his eyes half open.

“Come on,” she climbs off the bed, standing over him. “Let’s go,” she instructs, swaying her arms towards the door.

“Fuck off,” he mumbles, rolling onto his side. “Go back Sir Edwin Dicknumb,” he pushes his face into the pillow, curling up into a ball.

**His head is spinning; he’s definitely drank too much. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so empty; so fucking lost; and so fucking heartbroken. He had trusted her, and she had told him she wasn’t interested in that cunt. He had felt like his whole world was crashing around him. He thought she loved him and then there she was kissing fucking Count Sad-sack-ula. He thought his life was just starting to turn around with her as his support. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t look at her. He thought he would cry if he did. He would end up falling back into her and he couldn’t do that. He was too devastated.**

_She can’t help but feel the anger building up within her. All of the anxiety he has put her through today, all of the panic; and yet here he was wasted whilst she’s left to pick up the pieces._

“Roman. Stop being immature. I don’t have time for this. Hurry up. We’re going,” she instructs angrily, staring down at him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he groans, clutching at his stomach as it begins seizing.

“Why the fuck did you call me then?!” She shouts at his back.

“Moment of weakness,” he moans, his words slurring.

**He feels like he’s going to throw up, his head is spinning.**

She huffs, sitting on the edge of the bed again, trying to calm herself down; trying to remember all the things she had read earlier this evening.

“Roman. I love you and would never do that to you. It wasn’t what you think,” she tells him gently, before he sits up abruptly, making her jump.

“I’m going to be sick,” he announces, throwing his legs over to the side of the bed and standing, instantly tumbling headfirst into the wall in front of him as she jumps watching it; a yelp escaping her as she stands quickly. When she sees him crawling along the wall to the en suite door, she closes her eyes, rubbing her forehead as she follows him in.

He runs to the toilet, just making it as he starts heaving into the pan.

She comes up behind him, bending down and stroking his back, as he shrugs her off aggressively. She sighs again, taking a step back and leaning against the sink, watching him.

She listens as he moans and heaves, only copious amounts of liquid coming up as he deposits it into the toilet, hugging the bowl.

She grimaces watching.

_She can see he’s in pain, hears it in his voice, watches as he winces between heaving as his stomach contracts. She wishes he would let her comfort him or just listen to her. But she supposes he’s probably too drunk to take anything in right now anyway._

However, his heaving takes a turn as nothing starts coming up but thick bile, his painful groaning becoming louder as he panics.

“Gerri,” he heaves, panicked. “Gerri, I don’t feel good,” he throws up again clutching his stomach in agony, as she pushes off the sink, crouching down next to him.

“I know, honey,” she offers, chancing a rub at his back again.

“I think I’m dying,” he shouts, his voice echoing into the bowl as his head hangs over it.

“You just drank too much,” she tells him, moving her other hand up to his forehead to run through his hair, feeling its overly warm.

She stands up, walking over to the sink to get a cold washcloth.

“Don’t leave me!” He strangles out, echoing again, as he tries to look over to see where she is.

“I’m not leaving. I’m right here, Rome,” she says in a soft lilt as she runs the cloth under the cold water, folding it over, grasping another one and doing the same.

She moves around him to perch on the edge of the bath behind him, so he’s situated in between her legs, placing the washcloth over his forehead and holding it there, whilst placing the other on the back of his neck and allowing it to balance there; hearing his sigh of relief as the cool water hits him.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers again, twice, three times, as she closes her eyes, heartbroken from his desperation.

“I’m right here, honey. I’m not going anywhere,” she tells him softly, as she rubs her hand over his back gently.

He heaves for 10 minutes longer, his stomach empty of everything he could possibly bring up.

_She imagines he hasn’t eaten; he never did when he was stressed out, probably why he was so thin. However, it’s probably what put him on a one-way ticket to getting too drunk and the pain he was feeling now._

Eventually, he pushes away from the bowl, falling backwards as she grasps him, steering him in between her legs, the back of his head pressing against her stomach, the washcloth on his neck falling and dampening her jeans at her thigh as she tries to remove it, throwing it over to the sink. She looks down at him, his eyes closed, his face flushed as she allows the now warm wash cloth to balance on his forehead so she can push his damp hair back from his face.

They sit like that for a few minutes, her hand rhythmically stroking his hair back, his arm wrapping around her calf as his head lolls onto her thigh.

She realises he’s falling asleep, and they can’t sit here all night; her back is already protesting as she balances on the edge here. She leans down, kissing his temple, her hand pressing his hair back to his crown.

“Come on, Rome. Let’s get you home? Hmm?” She whispers softly. “We can get you into your pyjamas and all cosy in your bed,” she continues as she watches a small smile form on his lips, pressing tighter into her thigh.

“Are you going to stay with me?” He slurs his question, sounding just as child-like as he seems now. “I’m want you to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” she tells him, pushing him forward so she can start standing, him jolting much more awake now. “Come on,” she instructs, bending down and grasping under his arms to help him up.

He turns around facing her and falls into a hug, his arms around her neck, his face following as his lips press against her neck also.

“Love you, Gerri,” he whimpers slurred, tears beginning to flow, as her eyes close tightly, pulling him tighter against her. “Why would you cheat? Am I that shit?” He cries harder.

“No honey, no,” she brings her hand up to push against the back of his head. “I didn’t cheat. It was a misunderstanding.”

He pulls away from her, looking at the floor, wiping his nose as he backs up against the sink. “I’m so fucking worthless. No one’s ever going to love me,” he mumbles, crying harder as his hands cover his face.

_She feels like the wind is knocked out her when she hears that. He really thought that?_

“No,” she protests, putting her hands over his ears, pulling him up to look at her as he removes his hands, tears forming in her eyes as she watches tears stream down his. “You’re worth everything, Rome. And I love you, so much I think I could burst,” she smiles at him, his eyes tightening shut as small whimpers leave his throat. “Don’t ever, ever doubt that, do you hear me?” She says more aggressively, shaking her hands against his face.

“Why would you kiss that guy then?” He asks shyly, his eyes red, his nose running as he wipes it with the back of his hand.

“I didn’t. He jumped on me just as you came in just as I was about to push him off. I would never ever do that to you. Ever,” she stresses, rubbing her thumbs against his cheeks, her grasp on his jaw strong.

“You didn’t kiss him back?” He asks weakly, tears still in his eyes, his eyebrows raised.

“No! Ask Karolina! She heard the thrashing I gave him after,” she protests, as she watches him begin to cry again. She sighs, pulling him back into a hug, tightening her arms around his shoulders as his clasp around her waist.

_How hadn’t she considered how damaged he could be. Of course, these wounds must be deep and go back so far. Of course, something like seeing her kiss someone else would have such a profound effect on him. She could fucking murder Edwin for the fucking heartache he had caused._

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out against her now wet shoulder.

“Shhh,” she soothes, her hand on the back of his head. “It’s okay. Let’s get you home and into bed, okay?”

He nods against her shoulder as he pulls away from her, whilst she keeps her hands soothing his upper arms.

“Come on,” she says, wrapping her arm around his back and encouraging him to walk in front of her, out of the room.

The noise is just as deafening as it was before, as she shepherds him shakily to the stairs, slowly waiting behind him as he took each one, occasionally falling into the handrail giving her several mini heart attacks. When she gets to the bottom of the stairs, she puffs at the mission it’s going to be to get him to the door. She presses herself up behind him, her hands settling on his waist as she shouts an excuse me at people in front of him, tapping various people in the back to get the fuck out of the way, whilst she encourages him on.

“You found him!” Greg shouts from a few feet away over several people’s heads with a thumbs up as she offers a roll of her eyes in return, focusing back onto her pathway, until they find an unoccupied area near the door to catch a breather. He balances against the wall, turning around and pressing himself up against it.

“Did you have a coat?” She asks him as his eyes hazily open and close, swaying against the wall, not responding to her.

She huffs looking around, looking to see if it’s worth even trying to get the fucking coat. But it’s cold outside and she doesn’t want him to end up more ill than he already is going to be tomorrow. Finally, she sees Kendall, waving to him as he makes his way over to her.

“Can’t handle your drink little bro?” Ken laughs heartily. “Did she catch you at it with the blonde?”

Roman is too incoherent to have even heard Ken’s question over all the noise, as Gerri looks at Ken furiously.

“Where’s his coat?” She asks firmly, as she keeps a hand on Roman’s arm, hoping to continue holding him up.

“Uhm, closet,” he sobers towards her a little, a little afraid of her tone. He excuses the few people in front of it, opening the closet door to extract the blasted fucking coat, handing it to her, which she throws it over her arm.

“Come on, Rome. Let’s go,” she shouts, hoisting Roman back off the wall and pushing in front of him.

“I’ll message you, Rome!” Ken shouts as she escorts Roman out in front of her. “Bye, Gerri,” he waves laughing.

“Oh, fuck off,” she mutters under her breath as she finally gets him out the door and eventually into the elevator.

It’s silent again in the lift as she tries to sober him up enough to get his coat on, it becoming what she imagines is like dressing a fucking dead body. But she eventually gets it on and with a wave to the concierge, she gets him out of the building and into the car; Don waiting with an open door after he sees her coming.

“To Roman’s apartment please Don. There should be an underground car park,” she instructs.

_She had considered her own, but she knew he could be seen coming or going from that. His was more secure and hopefully the trusted doorman he was talking about at his was on._

He lies against her shoulder in the car, her fingers stroking his wrist, his arm draped across her thigh, as she tries to soothe him.

_She’s overly aware of Don in the front who can potentially see anything but she’s hoping she can write it off to him as CEO rescuing her drunk COO from toxic publicity and trying to be an all-round nice person._

They pull up to his apartment ten minutes later, dismissing Don before another difficult manoeuvre to get him up and into the building. She sees someone coming towards her as balances him against a wall whilst they wait on the elevator, trying to ignore him, maybe hide her face so that this doesn’t become something.

“God, what happened to him?” The large man laughs, directing his question towards her.

“Too much to drink,” she grimaces before turning back to him with a smile, her eyebrows raised as she nods.

“You okay, Roman?” The guy asks him.

Roman opens his eyes briefly, to look at where the voice is coming from.

“Al,” he smiles. “Big Allllllllll,” he drones laughing as he holds his fist out for Big Al to apparently bump.

“How you doin’ champ?” He asks Roman with a smile.

“A-O-K,” he responds, his head lolling again, as the bell rings.

She hoists him up again, as Al holds the door for them.

“Penthouse, yeah?” She asks him.

“Yeah. Only door up there. You can’t miss it,” he smiles kindly as he lets the elevator door close.

She spends the elevator trip rummaging his coat pockets looking for any kind of keys, realising they are full of a bunch of crap that she has to juggle in her hands before she finds them, as he stands perched against the wall half asleep.

Manoeuvring into his apartment is easier than she expected. She lets him fall onto the couch by the door as she catches her bearings, taking a breather for a moment, pulling her coat and sweater off, locking the door behind them. She turns on the lights and moves around the apartment, analysing where she has to take him and where everything she might need is.

_It’s a beautiful apartment. Nicely decorated though relatively bare. She explores the bottom floor. The master bedroom seemed to be down the hall. Though she remembers him saying something about having two spares and his dining room upstairs. But it works out; means she can feign sleeping in one of the spares tonight with no stairs to manoeuvre him up, thank fuck. Straight line to the bedroom which she’s sure she can manage._

She’s surprised when she comes back to retrieve him that he’s semi-awake, unceremoniously having pushed his coat off, his shoes kicked off across the room, and beginning on his shirt.

“Okay,” she sighs. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She escorts him to the bedroom with an arm around his back, depositing him on the bed as she begins working on removing his pants as he silently works on his shirt with closed eyes. She successfully removes his pants and socks, his shirt now flung behind her as she pulls his undershirt off over his head, leaving him to sleep in his boxers.

“Okay. Into bed,” she instructs as he turns around crawling up to the head of the bed, the covers collecting back as he does, then depositing himself under them, slamming his face into his pillow as he begins to crash out.

She puffs heavily as she watches him, her hands settled on her waist as she looks around the room folding his clothing. She gets a glass of water from the bathroom, gulping a glass down before getting another and placing it onto his bedside table when he inevitably needs it through the night.

She looks through his drawers, unwilling to sleep uncomfortably in her jeans, feeling like this is going to be a long night; eventually finding a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt she settles into before climbing into bed with him.

_She’s afraid to go asleep, her eyes jolting open every time she hears a small sound from him._

She eventually tries to move him so he’s on his side, aware that his stomach is empty but still afraid of the idea of him choking on his sick in his sleep. He takes it as an opportunity to snuggle into her, draping over her body and nuzzling into her neck.

_She can feel the heat off him still, the smell of sick on his breath but yet she still prefers him against her. She can feel his breath on her neck, his chest moving against her side, his hand twitching against her hip, and she would take that over how she felt a few hours ago any day; because at least here, under her care, she knew he was safe._

He wakes up through the night every so often, moaning and stirring against her as she soothes him gently; drifting off after she’s sure he’s settled again.

*****

He wakes up to an empty bed, his head pounding, his mouth dry, and his stomach burning. He hears the toilet flush in his en suite, the small snippets from last night come back to him in small flashes, not everything present.

**Walking the streets of NYC. Ending up on Ken’s doorstep. Crying on a random girl’s shoulder. Gerri speaking to him in a bedroom. Throwing up in the toilet. Lying on the floor between Gerri’s legs. Her brief explanation of how that fucker jumped on her. Stumbling into his elevator and then his apartment. Getting changed. Waking up through the night to her smell, buried into her. And he feels tremendous guilt wash over him. Of how she’s had to put up with him when she hadn’t done anything wrong.**

He looks around to the open drapes, squinting at the light coming in when he hears the bathroom door open as she appears.

**He doesn’t think he’s seen anything as brilliant as Gerri half asleep in his favourite grey Led Zeppelin t-shirt from his teenage years and a pair of his matching sweatpants.**

“Love the outfit,” he appreciates, attempting to ignore the nausea building within him.

“Not my usual wardrobe,” she quips flatly walking around the bed to her side. “Good to know my ass is bigger than yours since I’m stretching these out.”

“And what a nice ass it is,” he smiles, closing his eyes as she gets back into the bed, under the warm covers.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, propping on her elbow to look at him.

“Terrible,” he states. “Like death, which I deserve I suppose.”

She hums, folding her arm underneath her head as she lies down.

“I’m sorry, Gerri,” he says shyly, rubbing at his aching stomach.

“You should be. You put me through it last night,” she sighs, blinking slowly.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was upset,” he mumbles, looking down at his hands, too afraid to look her in the eye.

“I know. I wish you would have just stuck around to speak to me first,” she offers, moving her hand over the cover to settle on top of his, rubbing slowly.

“I kind of remember last night but it was a bit hazy. What happened with Edwin?” He finally looks around to her with sad eyes, her touch boldening him.

_It was the first time she thinks he has called Edwin by his actual name and it screams to her how sobered he is right now._

She sighs deeply, biting her lip.

“He asked to speak to me privately. I offered that the conference room was secure, but he wanted something away from prying eyes, so I took him to the south tank. He asked to see me again in a personal sense when we were in there and I told him I wasn’t interested. He wouldn’t accept that, said that he would take me on a date to any city in the world,” she tells him gently, running the pads of her fingers lightly across his hand, as he rolls his eyes.

“I was about to decline again when he pounced on me, which is when you walked in,” she looks up to him with a sad smile.

“Fucking cunt,” he mutters, threading his fingers through hers, his anger building making his head thrum more from the tension

“I was sitting against the desk so when he jumped on me, I started to fall back, so instinctually I grabbed him so I wouldn’t hurt myself. Then I heard you, but you ran out so fast, Rome,” she strokes her finger against his hand, raising her eyebrows.

“I’m sorry. I should have fucking stuck around so I could have done something,” he growls angrily, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes.

“No, you should have stuck around to speak to me. Not to defend my fucking honour. I tore him to pieces right after you left anyway. He couldn’t understand I wasn’t interested. Said that he could fulfil my needs. I told him my needs were being met already and he said he understood why I rebuffed him now because I was with someone else. I went through him even harder after that and asked him to leave; then Karolina came in after she heard me shouting at him in the hallway and after she saw you storming out of the building. She thought we had had a fight. She knows, you know?”

“Knows what?”

“About us. She had suspected from our little south tank moments and the small looks but that confirmed it for her,” she looks at him soberly.

“Fuccck,” he sighs angrily. “Fuck, Gerri. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want anyone knowing. Fuck. Is she going to tell?”

“No. Karolina can be trusted. She wasn’t as rattled as I thought she would be, but she was shocked. Think she was more annoyed at not having a heads up so she could scope out any whispers about it. I told her to keep an ear out. Fuel any jokes about it to make it seem wilder so throw people off,” she sighs.

He nods quietly, “fuck I can’t believe someone knows.”

“Mhm.”

“So, what happened with Edwin then? Is he buried under the south tank floorboards?”

“I told him to leave or I would get security, so he left. Said it was my loss,” she smiles gently.

“Your loss?” He shouts, wincing as his head thumps harder. “Like fuck is it your loss that stupid fucking rapey chauvinistic cunt faced needle dick fucking cumdumpster doesn’t deserve to breathe the same fucking air as you.”

She looks at him shocked with raised eyebrows.

“Wow,” she half laughs. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“It’s not even funny, Gerri. I want to fucking vaporise him and kick the living shit out of him,” he says angrily with his brow burrowed.

“I know, but it’s my own fault. In hindsight shouldn’t have taken him into the south tank. I should have known better, but the most I ever got from those sleazebags was a little flirtation, maybe light touching. Never that,” she reasons absently, looking across the room dazed.

“Are you fucking serious, Gerri?” He angrily asks her, looking around at her annoyed, his body screaming for him not to move but he does anyway. “Don’t make me be the one to tell you the fucking Me Too shit of how that’s not your fucking fault and you didn’t ask to be ambushed when you literally told the dude you weren’t interested. Please don’t.”

She shrugs, “I should have seen it coming.”

“No. You shouldn’t have. He should have fucking listened to you and I should have not been a little fucking child and stuck around to kick the living fuck out of him for being such a fucking disgusting egotistical perv,” he spits, his whole-body tensing.

“Okay. All right,” she says soothingly as the doorbell rings.

“Who the fuck is that?” He asks as she jumps out of bed quickly, grabbing her glasses on the way.

“Don. I had to get him to go to the store and get some things for your house since I couldn’t be seen coming in and out of the building. You don’t even have a loaf of bread in this house,” she shouts over her shoulder as she pads to the doorway.

He lies there waiting on her, as he listens to her padding around in the kitchen; he closes his eyes relaxing, praying for the horrible feeling in his whole body to fuck off.

He opens his eyes when he hears her padding in after a few minutes with a glass of water with something fizzing in it, holding something in her other hand.

“Take this,” she orders, handing him four pills and the drink.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Two Tylenol, Two Advil, and a rehydration drink with salts and vitamins so that the hangover isn’t so bad,” she smiles, passing it to him.

“A rehydration drink?” He asks knocking back the pills and swallowing it with the disgusting drink. “Where have you been all my life?” He smiles as she turns around.

“Drink it up! Small sips,” she shouts over her shoulder as she traipses back to the kitchen.

He screws his nose up, drinking down the thing, feeling sick as it hits his stomach, but he does what he’s told finishing the drink with small sips and depositing it on the bedside table.

She comes back eventually with a tray, the smell of coffee filling the room, a little nauseating if he’s honest.

She puts the tray down on the bed, pushing it into the middle of the bed, and climbing up to settle herself.

“Eat some toast,” she tells him, passing him the plate.

“I’m not hungry. I think I’m going to be sick,” he grimaces, rubbing his stomach.

“That’s because it’s empty with medicine trying to fix it. Eat the toast. It will put a lining in your stomach and soak up all the bile,” she waves the plate in his face. “It’s not an option.”

He rolls his eyes, taking the plate, sneering at the piece of toast as he puts it in his mouth.

“Good boy,” she smiles, taking her bowl of yoghurt with fruit in it and taking a spoonful.

“Not now, Gerri. My dick needs time to recover from this hangover too,” he says taking another bite.

“You wish,” she says laying back against the bed, reaching for her phone and scrolling through her notifications.

He has half a slice wolfed as he moves to the next slice, his stomach beginning to settle.

“So, what did Don think of your new wardrobe?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t think he had time to notice. Put my sweater on over it and talked him ear off about what a horrible night’s sleep I had in your lumpy spare bed and how you had been throwing up half the night. I gave him the rest of the day off as well. Told him I would catch a cab, so that likely was more enticing than the sweatpants,” she smirks, typing out a quick email.

“Good. Your ass in my sweatpants remains my own little secret,” he answers, looking over her shoulder at her phone.

They sit in silence for a while as he finishes his toast, whilst she continues typing.

“You want to try a bit?” She offers her yoghurt, as he nods, lying back against the pillows. She looks around, passing him the bowl as she sees him lying with his mouth open.

“Really?” She pulls the bowl back.

“Feed me, woman,” he laughs, as she rolls her eyes, putting a spoonful into his mouth.

“A triumph,” he determines, closing his eyes, as she moves onto looking at the news on an app, analysing news stories as she absentmindedly puts a spoonful into her own mouth as well as the odd one into his.

“Gerri,” he says as she puts the bowl down onto the tray. “I’m genuinely really sorry about last night. I know you had to come and get me from the little I remember and that I was being sick, and you took care of me. I appreciate it but I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Rome,” she sighs, looking up from her phone. “I think we should have this conversation when you’re feeling a little better.”

_She was trying to think back to the things she had read last night about boundaries. That they should have the conversation when they were both calm so they could set boundaries and make agreements. He was calm but he was also hungover, and she felt he should be more coherent._

**Fuck. That alone gave him anxiety.**

“Are you going to break up with me?” He asks her panicked.

She sighs, smiling at him.

“No, honey. I’m not,” she soothes, threading her hand through his.

“Can we please just have the conversation now? The suspense is killing me,” he looks at her his chest heaving, his sick feeling returning.

_She can see the fear in his eyes. Doesn’t want to see that again because of her. Doesn’t want a panicked repeat of last night. She tries to think again of what she was meant to do. Tell him what you will and will not tolerate. Make those expectations clear. Make sure to let him know you love him and reassure them when doing it._

“Okay,” she sighs, turning on her side towards him, wrapping her arm around his body. “Listen, first and foremost I want to let you know that I love you. That I want to continue this and that you make me happy.”

She smiles at him as his eyebrows raise in fear.

“I want to reiterate that I didn’t do anything with Edwin and that I would never do anything like that. That you can take to the bank,” she continues.

“But?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I think we need to set some ground rules, okay? Going forward we need to come to the agreement to properly communicate,” she looks at him as she strokes his side with her fingers.

“Okay,” he breathes, listening intently.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so anxious as I was yesterday. All day yesterday checking my phone, not able to concentrate on my work, ready to start driving around the streets of New York to look for you when you weren’t at your apartment. I was in complete panic mode and it didn’t even end when I came to get you. Seeing you in that state, then waking up all through the night to make sure you hadn’t choked on your sick. I’ve never had to do that, and I don’t think I have the energy to go through it ever again,” she looks to him sadly, as she brings her hand up to his chin.

“I’m really sorry, Gerri,” he says looking down. “I let you down.”

“No, Rome. You just reacted in a really, really,” she sighs, looking for the word.

“Immature way?” He provides. “Selfish way?” He offers again. “Moronic way?”

“Worrying way,” she finishes. “I need you to agree to communicate with me when you have an issue. We discussed this on the yacht. I need you to come to me when you’re upset or angry or whatever, so we can talk about it. I was so worried that you had done something detrimental to yourself and I thought I was going to throw up at the thought. I can’t go through that again like I did yesterday. I don't know what you're capable of when you're in that state of mind, so I need for you to agree with me right now that when you feel like you're going to do something detrimental to yourself you call me, find me, tell me. That's non-negotiable.”

“Is that an ultimatum? Get it together or you walk?”

She sighs deeply, looking at him pointedly.

“No. This isn’t an ultimatum. This is me communicating with you and asking you to give me the love and respect to tell me when you’re hurt or sad just like you would if you were happy or excited, so that we can discuss it and resolve it, because I don’t want to feel the way I did yesterday.”

“I promise, Gerri. Well, I’ll definitely try. I don’t know how my fucked up head works. I just reacted yesterday. I didn’t even think about if it was the right thing to do,” he takes her hand, kissing the palm.

“Where did you go? Ken said you showed up on his doorstep upset,” she asks interestedly.

“Fucking snitch,” he says threading his fingers through hers again. “I don’t know. Just kept walking and walking until it started getting dark and then I was in the area of Ken’s house and I thought fuck it. I’ll go see him. And I couldn’t hide that I was upset. He forced out of me that I had a fight with a girl. Told him it was someone I was seeing but didn’t say who, just let him do all the assuming. But he had a party planned, convinced me to stay for a drink. Then the fucking cokehead started offering me shit,” he explains, before she cuts him off.

“You didn’t take anything like that, did you?”

“Nah. Not my scene,” he responds, his other hand running along her wrist. “But before I knew it, I was drinking more than I should have and that was that.”

“What about the blonde?” She asks.

_She had been avoiding thinking of it, but she couldn’t help herself._

“What blonde?” He pulls back with a confused expression.

“Some smarmy assed girl took your phone when you called me and told me to come get you,” she divulges.

“I phoned you?”

“Yeah. You just said my name and then dropped it before she spoke but yeah. Then when I got there, Ken kept saying that you were probably in a bedroom with “the blonde” and that I was going to walk in on you fucking her,” she looks at him pointedly. “Any truth to that?”

“What?!” He looks at her incredulously. “Fuck no! The only blonde I can remember is some bitch who was coming onto me and then I started crying about you and telling her how much I loved you and shit, and how you broke my heart. I didn’t fuck any blonde. I didn’t even touch any blonde.”

_She believes him. Roman was a terrible liar. When he is lying his voice starts wavering and his eye contact flew all over the place. He was here firmly telling her with his eyes boring into her that he didn’t and that she knew was the truth._

“Okay,” she smiles gently as he turns into her, hugging against her chest as he wraps his arms around her, whilst she trails her hand against his back.

“I don’t want anyone but you,” he whimpers into her chest, kissing it.

“Neither do I. But can you see how different that was. Can you see how I could easily have flown off the handle at that phone call or Ken’s comments and left you at that apartment to rot but instead I waited to find out from you myself. That I communicated with you and outright asked you and believed what you told me because I trust you?” She continues stroking up his back, kissing his hairline.

“I know,” he mumbles. “You’re so much better than me.”

“No, Roman,” she pushes him back, grasping his chin to look into his eyes. “That wasn’t a Gerri is great and Roman sucks analogy. That was a do you see how much easier a situation can be when you communicate with the person and trust them instead of flying off the handle analogy. I have twenty years of experience on you. I also have twenty years of marriage experience on you. Not to mention that the older you get, the more mellow you get. Not to mention, I don’t have a personality disorder throwing unwanted doubt through my brain. It’s going to take time for you to get there. I just want you to see how communication and trust can actually be very healthy instead of running off into the night.”

“I know, Gerri. I’m really gonna try. I promise. I don’t want to promise you I’m going to be perfect because I don’t know what I’m going to be like. But I know I fucking love you and I want to be with you and I want to be better,” he tells her, closing his eyes and brushing his nose against hers.

“I know, honey. I love you too. And that’s all I want,” she kisses him briefly, lying back down and encouraging him to burrow into her neck, as he closes his eyes breathing her in.

“Have you got any other agreements you want?” He asks bashfully, kissing her chest again.

She hums, thinking. “I would appreciate it that if you’re going to turn off your phone because of whatever reason that you tell me, so I know you’ve not done something stupid and so that I don’t have to sit panicked wondering why.”

“I don’t really turn off my phone. I just couldn’t take any more thoughts, so I had to cut myself off.”

“Listen Rome. Like I already said, I want you to communicate me. I’m talking in a general sense, if you need to take some time to yourself and cut yourself off from the world for the night for whatever reason, then just shoot me a text saying ‘going to turn my phone off to have some chill time’. I would appreciate that. I don’t want to have to show up to your apartment because you’ve went AWOL.”

“Okay. I can do that. But Gerri,” he pulls back looking up to her as she strokes his face. “If we’re agreeing on shit then can you like… just promise to be honest with me with shit like Edwin.”

“I told you everything about Edwin,” she furrows her eyebrows, her thumb halting at his temple.

“No, like I mean. If you want to walk away from this then just rip off the band aid. If you see a silver fox and want to run away with him just,” he sighs, closing his eyes, “just tell me. Just fucking punch me in the gut with it. I would rather that than finding out later that something happened.”

“So, you’re asking me to never cheat on you?” She asks, her lips pursing.

“Yeah, well, uhm… well, yeah I suppose. Just like don’t drag it out. I can’t imagine anything worse than me still pining over you and chasing you whilst you like I don’t know… pity fuck me. Just get it over with when you know,” he pleads with her.

“Look, I’ll promise to do that IF it happens but what makes you think that it’s imminent? “When you know”,” she repeats his words back to him with a frown.

“I don’t know. It’s going to happen eventually,” he frowns.

“What makes you think it’s not going to happen with you? That you don’t get whisked away by some blonde now that you’re the master of sex,” she quips, quirking her eyebrows.

He smiles, offering her a small sigh.

“Never,” he whispers, pecking her lips, his heart surging. “Never fucking ever. You’re it.”

She pecks his lips back, stroking his neck.

“What makes you think you aren’t?” She asks with a challenging eyebrow.

“Because I’m me and you’re you Gerri,” he says sadly, resting his forehead against hers.

**He feels so sad today. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s all of the emotion. Maybe it was the breakdown reigniting all his shitty doubts from over the years. He doesn’t know. But he knows he’s not for Gerri. He knows she’s a mature woman with so much class and intelligence, and a scrawny nobody like him isn’t for her.**

“You belong with a debonair silver fox who takes you on yachts, fancy dinners, operas, museums, and fucks your brains out like a guy who actually knows how. Not me, Gerri. I’m just lucky to have this time now until you come to your senses,” he says his eyes filling with tears.

_Her heart is breaking for him. The same way it did last night when he said he was worthless. That beaten down little boy who just wanted someone to love him coming to the forefront. How could he not see how much light he brought into her life?_

“Rome? You said last night that you thought you were worthless. Do you really think that?” She strokes her fingers through his hair as she runs her foot up his calf, pulling her forehead away from his so she could watch his reaction.

“Sometimes. Not all the time,” he murmurs.

“Why?” She asks exasperated.

“I don’t know. No one ever loved me. Not anyone. Not my mom or my dad and they are supposed to be the ones that have to love you. Shiv and Ken and Connor are just like friends who could take or leave me, I suppose. People always made out I was a weird creep. Thought that was why,” he shrugs, tightening his hold around her, burrowing himself in her neck again, a tear escaping his eye and hitting his shoulder.

“Oh, honey. That’s not true. Your mom and dad love you, they just… they don’t know how to show it in a conventional way. Same with the others. Fuck some fucking debonair silver fox. And fuck going to the opera. I hate the fucking opera. Museums, yachts, and fancy dinners; I’m sure we can do together eventually. And fucking my brains out, well I think my reactions alone to you during sex are answer enough and it will just keep on getting better. You’ve come so far and there is nothing stopping this from being a really great relationship. But you’re not worthless, Rome. They’re the worthless ones for not seeing how brilliant you are. I see it. So many people see it. You’re just looking for approval from the wrong people. But, I’m here with you and you know what? You’re worth _so_ much. You know that? You make me so happy. You’re so much fun,” she starts trailing her fingers across his arm as she sings it. “You make me laugh. And you’re so sincere and giving and caring and thoughtful and open and sensitive. You brighten up my whole life, do you know that? I wouldn’t give you up for anything.”

She burrows his head deeper into her, kissing his temple, tightening her hold around him.

“You’re the only person who’s ever said that. No one would describe me like that,” he tightens his hold on her as her eyes close tightly, tears running down her cheeks, her heart breaking for him.

“Maybe they don’t know the real you. Maybe you need to show them, because you’re fucking special Roman. Your charm could knock anyone dead. And you’re intelligent and caring in the mix. What else would anyone want?” She smiles, turning her head to kiss the side of his mouth as he responds.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Anytime, honey,” she kisses again, moving her head back to look across the room to allow him to settle. They lie in silence for a few minutes as he listens to her breathe, she watches his side rise and fall, the weight of her words lingering between them.

“What’s your plans for your day off then?” He asks fishing.

“Work. Of course.”

He snores loudly into her neck, “boring.”

“It’s not much to do. I can do it later.”

“I don’t think I could leave this bed with how shit I feel. Want spend the day with me like a couple of normos and lie in bed and watch Netflix.”

“Netflix and Chill, yeah?” She laughs.

He pulls back to look at her shocked.

“I’m literally incapable of fucking you right now with how nauseous I feel, just so you know. But how do you even know what that is?”

“I’m not that fucking old you little shit.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Depends what we’re watching,” she raises an eyebrow as his chin settles on her chest looking up at her.

“I don’t care as long as you’re here,” he smiles simply.

“Well I’ve been trying to rewatch the Crown for months now before season four comes out but never have the time.”

“The Crown? About the Queen?” His nose wrinkles as he starts to get up off of her.

“It’s more than that. Goes all the way through the years. I’m on Season 3 when the queen is middle aged. Diana comes in next season.”

“Oh, maybe they will talk about the creepy phone sex gate. I’m in,” he smiles, pecking her lips.

“Get the remote,” she instructs, punctuating her sentence with a kiss in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's pretend to live in a world where there is no Covid.  
> Congratulations to everyone in the USA who got rid of their dictator. I couldn't be more thrilled for you all!


	7. Scenes from an Apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wee bit of violence warning in this chapter lads
> 
> Gerri thoughts in italics  
> Roman thoughts in bold

It’s just past 7pm when he finally sees her walking past his office window with her assistant. He watches as she stands in front of Claire’s desk, Claire nodding with each instruction Gerri hands out, whilst Gerri towers over her, clutching her files to her chest with one arm whilst she gestures her other hand in the air, huffing every so often, flicking her hair back and pushing the strands behind her ear.

He keeps his hands on his keyboard, feigning work as he had done for the past hour, waiting for her to get out the board meeting, until he sees her turn around and walk into her office slowly, Claire lifting her purse and packing her things away.

**Good. Claire’s leaving. He could swoop in now.**

He stands up, fixing his tie and buttoning up his suit jacket to look professional as possible, grasping his notepad, swinging his arm from side to side as he leaves his office because he can’t help himself, whilst he passes Claire who is beelining for the elevator.

“That you away?” He asks her.

“Yeah. Finally,” she sighs with a smile, still walking.

He turns around, walking backward to Gerri’s office.

“What’s her mood?” He smiles, asking quietly.

She turns around to face him walking backwards also, giving only a huff in response.

He laughs, turning back towards Gerri’s office.

“Have a good night!” He shouts over his shoulder as he gets to her door.

“You too!” He hears in the distance.

Gerri looks up at him from her desk, only a small desk lamp illuminating the room, as she sorts her papers into three files.

“Hey,” he greets her enthusiastically, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” she sighs, looking immediately back down to her papers.

“How did it all go? Not seen you all day,” He asks her, still swinging his notepad, almost skipping to the chair in front of her desk.

She sighs, maybe in frustration, maybe from exhaustion, he doesn’t know but he’s willing to find out.

“Which part? The meeting with the victims? The meeting with your dad? Or the meeting with the board?” She asks him distractedly, still concentrating on the papers she’s divvying.

“Uhm… all of the above,” he shrugs with a grin, swinging his leg over the arm of the chair, placing his notepad on his thigh.

“Well,” she huffs, “the meetings with the victims was as expected. Hard to listen to in detail from the source of the pain but productive in that we got a lot of information on where it went wrong in how they weren’t able to properly report it to their superiors. The external investigation lawyers were able to get a lot of out it also. I was able to assure them all that there are different procedures in place now and asked their feedback on that,” she continues monotonously, signing her name on the bottom of a sheet of paper.

“Well that sounds positive. The investigation should nearly be done by now, surely? And with the EEOC showing up day after tomorrow, they will probably be in and out if they both just share information with each other. Will make half the work. From what I gather they haven’t really found much, other than the ancient stuff?” He reasons with a shrug, taking out his phone and checking his emails quickly.

“Yeah. My meeting with them will be first thing and then the interview they want to conduct with me should be immediately after. I suppose I should be glad I’m not being dragged to DC for a hearing like your dad and Karl are but… At least I have another day to prep,” she lifts her hand, rubbing her eye, under her glasses.

**She looks exhausted again. She had been non-stop for the past few weeks. The investigations had been non-stop, the hours late, the mornings early. He hadn’t hardly been alone with her since his hangover. They had spent time in the office together, of course, but there was a limitation to what she was willing to talk about here since she thought the whole place was bugged. They had reverted to walks to Starbucks whenever they needed to be confidential, feigning the need for fresh air to her thankful assistant. They had limited the south tank visitations as well after Karolina had worked it out for herself; someone else wouldn’t be far behind her. With the shit happening with his dad, the acquisition, the investigations, the hearing etc.; they didn’t need anymore drama.**

“And how’s my dad?” He asks gleefully with a raised eyebrow.

“Uhm…,” she looks up around the office, gives him a knowing raise of her eyebrow, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, he’s great. I told him about the defences and how with the evidence he wasn’t going to get away with no consequences at all but that we are going to try for a dismissal and hope that they don’t have anything they can pass onto the authorities. The hearing isn’t until next week anyway, so we still have time. But we agreed that limiting it to him, Karl, and Mo, would bring the least attention to the company. We agreed to try and press it onto Karl. Just say that your dad wasn’t aware what he was signing. You know. Casting reasonable doubt,” she looks at him raising her eyebrows again in an ‘I’ll tell you the real story later’ gesture.

“That’s good. I mean sucks for him but I’m sure you can get him out of it. Means he can get a fine from the government as well and back to normality,” he shrugs, pulling a face, hoping that his dad didn’t have cameras set up as well.

She hums in response which he takes as golden.

“And the board meeting? Was my presence missed?” He presses. 

“The board meeting was interesting,” she raises her eyebrows again.

**Another secret thing she needs to tell him later. Fuck. A juicy day all around.**

“They were discussing the streaming platform, the acquisition, finance. I’m too exhausted to go into the details tonight but it was positive. They seemed to think that the projection for the year and the reputation was on the up, so?” She shrugs, separating her papers again.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” He asks excitedly.

She offers a small shaking of her head, providing her fake enthusiastic voice again, “uhu. But there is still a lot of work to do. I was thinking maybe of a corporate treat before Thanksgiving? Try and get everyone hyped up before Christmas. What you think?”

“I mean yeah, sure, why not. As long as it isn’t another round of boar on the floor,” he smiles as she rolls her eyes.

“I was thinking of something a little warmer this time, a little more relaxing, with fewer dead carcass’s,” she raises an eyebrow at him.

“Well…” he thinks, hesitating, running the edge of his phone along his thigh.

“What?” She narrows her eyes, looking at him suspiciously.

“Why don’t we just fuck all that old guard shit?” He blasts out, sitting up in his chair excitedly as her eyes widen. “How about like chilling, man? Like what we did on the yacht? Lounging by the pool, playing pool volleyball, water sports and shit? That’s probably the most bonding I’ve ever done with those two fuckwits. We could go to like Hawaii and get a big mansion, and get drunk, and play pool and cards, chill out by the sea, and people can go like to a spa, or deep-sea diving, or play shitty golf, or go like quad biking. I know that’s what I would rather do, and I can imagine it’s what everyone else would. It has something for everyone. You can go bond with the cunts who want to try the same shit as you, but you all meet up for dinner and drunken shenanigans at night?” He looks at her with his arms held out wide, waiting for her response.

“Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. Something for everyone but also bonding. Actually, being able to relax in the hot sun,” she purses her lips, nodding.

“When were you thinking?”

“Uhm… when’s Thanksgiving this year? The 26th? So maybe 20th until 23rd?”

“The 21st is my birthday but hell yeah, I would rather be in Hawaii instead of sitting around my apartment after a day at work. I’m good with that.”

_She can feel the wheels turning in her head of how she can actually use the fact that it’s his birthday to her advantage._

“Okay. Well then can I trust you to organise it?”

“Hell yeah. I will get another few people on board as well,” he says instantly going on his phone and searching shit.

“Okay,” she narrows her eyes. “Well I can tell you’re excited about this but until then we need to get back to work,” she says staring at him as he looks up at her innocently whilst she gestures at the phone.

“Okay okay,” he says locking his phone and placing it on her desk. “What’s the focus?”

“The streaming site, getting that off the ground but you have that under control, don’t you? What’s the update on that?”

“Ehm… they are coming in end of this week with the designs and some possible names. We have the independent movies from Jones, Burnside Studios, and Rob signed up. We have a lot of the agreements for the distribution of some of the major musicals available. Ehm… Falsettos, Gypsy, Waitress, Company. We have all of them sorted and more nearly finalised. It’s looking like a February launch, hopefully.”

“Great. I have the main guys from Ace Airlines coming in at the end of the week as well. I will get Claire to send the details to Sam to make sure you’re available. I want to gauge how many of them have loyalty to Edwin. Perhaps you can take them for dinner and drinks and see if you can get them to spill?” She looks up to him with a small smirk.

“I mean I’m happy to be whored out, but only for you Madam Kellman,” he winks in return, as she rolls her eyes again with a smirk.

“Just find out what you can. I want to feel out their expertise or if they are just a bunch of… well… Tom’s. I want to create a division here based in New York and I don’t need a moron running it. If they just need a firm hand, I was considering bumping up Dana. She’s been in ATN with Cyd for years now and is showing real competency. Cyd gives her rave reviews, but Cyd isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Yeah. I like Dana. She seems efficient,” he nods, distracted by twisting his phone in his hand.

“I’m so glad you approve,” she offers deeply, eyeing him flirtatiously over the rim of her glasses.

She finally puts the last paper in place, leaning back on her chair and huffing. She takes her glasses off sitting them on the table and rubs her eyes.

“Then there are these investigations. The independent lawyers one is almost over and like you said, here’s hoping the EEOC take most of their information from that instead of subjecting everyone to another interview but I want this to be over with a good conclusion. It’s positive for the company and positive for this hearing in DC if it’s concluded. So, I need to go home tonight and try and prep a little for this interview. God knows what will show up tomor–,” she huffs as she’s interrupted by a huge groan from her stomach.

His eyes go wide, his head turning slowly towards her before he’s bursting out in laughter.

“Fuck off,” she smiles, clipping together the files and placing them in her drawer. “I’ve not eaten since this morning.”

“Me neither. Why don’t you let me help you with the prep and I can look up Hawaii? Can go back to my apartment, get some food, and game this shit out. Shirt’s off shit,” he winks with a sly grin.

She rolls her eyes, aware of the idea of the office being bugged again.

“I need to work,” she responds flatly.

“Oh my god, Gerri. That’s why I’m inviting you. Nothing untoward!” He tells her dramatically. “I have a girlfriend who I’m fucking obsessed with, so you have literally nothing to worry about,” he protests loudly, her smile turning sweet. “I just wanted to be nice and try and help, whilst eating a completely unhealthy meal. Fuck. If it makes you feel better ask Frank to come too, unless you think I’m going to jump you both,” he defends loudly, as his eyes suggest something completely fucking different.

“I _am_ hungry,” she hums. “Only if we don’t order something completely fucking unhealthy. Your body might be able to cope with it but mine can’t.”

“My body is a fucking temple, Kellman. Get your shit together and I’ll get you at my office in 2,” he instructs, standing up abruptly and walking to the door as she rolls her eyes.

*****

They endure the car journey together in silence, completely aware that what they have to talk about is not for the ears of the driver. However, he couldn’t help sneaking his hand behind his propped up briefcase between them to caress her hip; his eyes deadpan straight ahead looking in the mirror at the driver, ensuring there is nothing he can see, as Gerri did her best not to react, simply folding her legs over in front of her with a sigh as she looked down at her phone.

Big Al had recognised her as they waited on the lift, throwing her an excited wave whilst Roman giggled, as she offered a polite wave and an embarrassed smile in return.

“He’s a nice guy,” she tells him as they get in the elevator.

“Al? He’s a gem. I spoke to him the next morning after my day of death. Told him that you were my boss and I was in big trouble because you had to make sure I didn’t die through the night. I asked him to keep it on the down low that you came here though. Told him that the press were hounding you at your apartment so you might show up here now and then to stay in my spare bedroom to get peace and quiet so I could score points with you,” he tells her with a smirk, keeping his distance, his eye hard on the security camera.

_She doesn’t know how legitimate that excuse sounds but she’s too tired to worry about it._

She shushes him, looking up to the camera herself.

“Doesn’t have sound. Al let it slip,” he smiles.

She pushes herself into the corner under the camera so it can’t see her.

“Girlfriend you’re obsessed with?” She asks with a smirk, moving her hand to stroke from her thigh up to her waist, stopping for a moment and then across her chest up to the necklace on her bare neck, stroking the skin around it as she gasps.

“Yeah, in every way,” he breathes, staring at her, trying to keep his reaction still as possible, his groin stirring.

“Imagine there was no camera and you could just fuck me right here. Right up against the wall,” she breathes, pushing her head back to press against the wall.

“Fuck, Gerri,” he whispers as she looks back down to him with a knowing smile when the elevator rings at his floor.

“After you,” she smiles at him, gesturing her hand to the door.

“No, please. The pleasure of watching you from behind is all mine,” he smiles, following her out of the elevator, reaching to his pocket for his keys as he watches her walk ahead, the glimmer of a sway in her hips until she leans against his door frame waiting for him to unlock it.

He steps in first waiting for her to enter which she does so, agonisingly slowly, before he slams the door shut, locking it before pressing her hard against the door with his body, his lips ghosting against hers as she smirks with a throaty laugh.

He kisses her hard, his tongue exploring hers as his hand finds its way to her knee, skimming up under her skirt, as her tongue strokes his ardently. Her hands immediately find its way to his shoulders under his heavy coat and suit jacket, pushing them off aggressively, forcing him to let go of her leg and push her coat off also as the garments all drop to the tiled floor.

He breathes heavily as he lets her go, desperately pulling her shirt up out of her skirt as she undoes his shirt buttons swiftly, her eyes lustfully boring into his.

“I missed you,” she breathes, pecking his lips excitedly.

“I know. It’s been so long,” he reacts, kissing her back hard before, pulling back to look at her buttons as she tries to push his shirt off his back, pulling it up as she goes.

He lets her go when her shirt is half done as he fights to pull his shirt off his back, his cufflinks offering a hurdle, whilst she takes the opportunity to playfully pull out from between him and the door, walking past him towards his living room as he follows, His eyes are only on her as she walks backwards with a sly grin, continuing to unbutton her shirt, revealing her black lace bra, making him groan.

“Have you missed me?” She asks seductively, pulling her shirt open as he gets one arm off, angrily pulling at the other, finally getting it off.

“Fuck yes,” he whispers, moving towards her as she almost gets near the couch, kissing and licking the skin of her shoulders as he pushes the shirt off them, her hand finding its way to the back of his head, her other reaching down to his belt.

“Have you been thinking about me?” She asks as he begins to suck on her neck, her shirt discarded on the floor behind him, his hands trailing to her thighs to hike her skirt up.

“Has that not been obvious by my nightly phone calls telling you everything I want to do to you?” He asks as she gasps when his teeth rake her neck, a small laugh escaping her as she closes her eyes.

She pulls back, taking hold of his belt and directing him to follow her as she backs up the rest of the way to the couch. She unbuckles his belt, pulling it off in one motion and throwing it on the ground; unbuttoning his pant fastening as she plants a wet kiss to his neck, sucking on his pulse as she pulls his zipper down.

“Sit down,” she whispers by his ear when he pulls back.

“Fuck,” he sighs when she pushes him down onto the couch with a flirtatious smile.

He instantly reaches for her, his lips settling on her stomach, running his tongue along it as her hands reach for his head. His hands caress her behind, running down to her ridden up skirt, pulling it up the rest of the way as he feels both bare skin and fabric.

He pulls back tilting his head up to look at her in shock as she looks down at the ceasing of his ministrations.

“Stockings?” He asks breathily. “You wear stockings to work?”

**Now that he thinks about it, he’s never had the opportunity to fuck Gerri right out of work. She was always in pyjamas or her floaty yacht outfits. Never in her work outfits. If he knew Gerri wore this shit, he would be walking around with a hard on all day. He supposes that will be his life from now on.**

“As much as I would like to provide you that fantasy,” she begins laughing. “No. I usually wear panty hose. But I was running late today and all of them were either ripped or in the laundry, so I settled on these. They’ve been annoying me all day having to hike them up,” she smiles, stroking the back of his head.

He groans, closing his eyes, as he looks back down, his hands settled still on the back of her thighs, his fingers tickling them.

“Take the skirt off,” he instructs heatedly as she raises an eyebrow, offering a smirk at his order.

_Roman ordering her around wasn’t something she would ever have considered would be a turn on. The lust in his eyes as he appreciates her makes her smile, makes her feel attractive and she’s ready to indulge. She was going to have to fight back for control though right now she would give him this._

She smiles, letting go of his head, reaching behind her pulling the zipper down and unfastening the hook at the top before she pushes the skirt down, he moving his hands to help her.

He simply sits there, his hands resting on either side of her thighs as he takes in her nude stockings with nude lace resting at the top of her thighs, her black lace underwear eye level with him until he leans forward placing his lips along the edge of the lace on her left thigh. She moves her hands to his shoulders as his hands begin skimming the sensitive skin on the back of her thighs, running from her behind along her skin over the lace and the stockings to the inside of her knee.

_She can’t remember ever being so turned on, her head lolling forward as she feels her arousal pool in her underwear. It had been weeks since he had had his hands on her and even when they had spent that day with him watching Netflix, he had been too sick for them to become intimate, though she was happy to have the other comforting intimacy they had had that day. But there was something to be said for your body screaming to be touched and filled in this sense, and for fuck sake she wanted to take him._

**He had never even considered what she wore under her skirts. He had always been too concerned with thinking of her skin, her shape. Knowing from when he had seen her in pants numerous times now that her inner thighs brushed together lightly when she walked; that her skin on her inner thighs was so sensitive causing her to whimper every time he stroked them or ran his tongue over them. He never considered that she was wearing something unbelievably fucking hot underneath a skirt which was pretty fucking wild considering it was the mark of every single fucking hot assed corporate woman in any of the porn he ever watched. He is completely fascinated by it and he doesn’t know if he will be able to think of anything else from now on.**

“Do you ever wear suspenders?” He asks genuinely curious, moving his mouth across to her inner thigh and across to the one he has neglected.

“Not really,” she whispers, her arousal peaking. “I have them, but they can be uncomfortable through a long workday and when there is an event, I usually have twenty layers of spanx on.”

“Why the fuck would you wear spanx and cover up this perfect shape?” He asks, his light kisses grazing between the lace and her skin as she moans quietly, a small smile forming at his compliment.

“Why do you ask? Do you want me to wear them?” She asks huskily, her hands threading harder into his head to encourage him on.

“Not if they are uncomfortable,” he continues, adding his tongue to her skin as he begins kneading her behind.

_She’s had it, she needs to take back control._

She pulls his head back and watches as he looks up to her, his eyes so innocent as she pushes his shoulders to encourage him to sit back against the pillows.

“Do stockings with suspender belts turn you on?” She whispers as she kneels on one side of him, straddling him, settling near his knees as she strokes her hands across his chest, the pads of his fingers brushing against the lace of her stockings again.

“Yeah,” he breathes, as she kisses against his neck languidly.

“Are you turned on now, Roman?” She asks him as authoritatively as she can muster, whilst she runs her hand south down his chest.

“Yeah, Gerri,” he breathes again as his hands move to her hips, attempting to pull her closer as his knees rise so she can slide down his thighs.

“Oh, you are,” she smirks pulling back from his neck as she palms his grown length through his pants.

“Gerri,” he whispers trying to take her lips as she pulls back a little.

“Stay still,” she instructs as she moves within his pants over his underwear.

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath as she continues palming him.

“Do you sit hard for me when we’re in meetings with top executives?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, pushing his hips up into her palm as his grip on her hips tightens.

“Do you think about how much you just want to throw me on the conference room table and just fuck me for everyone to see?” She asks breathily, her own hips beginning to twitch a little as she finally moves into his underwear, grasping him firmly, feeling the silk skin against the hardness of his length.

He can’t answer, simply groans his response.

“That’s what I think of, Roman,” she leans down to kiss his lips quickly, her breath mingling with his, pressing her forehead against his. “Of you fucking me on my desk in the office,” she breathes, removing her hand and moving her hips forward to rub herself against his exposed length.

“Fuck, Gerri,” he pulls her tighter to him, grinding rhythmically up against her. “I want to fuck you so hard on your desk.”

“Yeah?” she breathes, pushing down harder onto him.

“Pull your skirt up,” he kisses her lips. “Run my hands across your stockings,” he mumbles into her mouth as her tongue wars with his.

“Yeah?” She breathes, her teeth biting his lip, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer.

“Wrap your legs around me as I fuck you hard,” he grunts, renewing his vigour in her mouth as she groans loudly.

“Oh, Roman,” she moans as she pulls her lips away from his, grinding her clit harder against his dick. “Fuck me, baby.”

He doesn’t speak, simply reaches between them as she sits off him lightly as he presses her underwear aside quickly, spreading against her juices around, a loud moan escaping her as he touches her screaming bundle of nerves. He grabs his length and pushes up into her hard as she gasps in surprise, her eyes closed, her mouth wide open.

“God,” she whispers, gyrating her hips as he is deep within her.

She moves up briefly and slams back down on him hard as they take another moment to breathe from the feeling. She kisses him hard, one hand moving away from around his shoulders to touch his neck.

“I fucking love you, Rome,” she whispers assertively as she slowly raises and slams back down on him, him filling her completely as her upper body rolls from the pleasure, her eyes fluttering shut.

“I fucking love you,” he groans, attacking her neck as he begins moving his body up into her now; creating a hard, fast rhythm as she meets him with moans, the spot within her screaming for relief as her heat envelops his length deliciously.

“Keep going, Rome. Ugh,” she strains into the room as she bounces up and down on his lap, his face becoming strained as he tries to hold on for her release. “Right there, baby. Yeah.”

“Let go you fucking siren,” he bites into her neck.

It shocks her but it works because she can feel herself convulsing around him as he begins shooting his seed inside her.

Their movements become untamed, their tempo off as he wildly bucks into her hard and she takes each thrashing he gives her with a provocative gasp.

His mouth settles in her neck, his mumbles loud as he trails up lazily to her mouth, languidly running his tongue along hers as she pushes his sweat covered hair back from his face, kissing him back as her whole body continues to vibrate.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he mumbles into her mouth, as his hands run across the skin of her lower back.

She smiles into his kiss, her hair tickling his cheek as it falls from her position above him.

“Me too. We need to make more time for this,” she pulls back, pecking.

“I have zero complaints,” he smiles, kissing her invitingly swollen lips again.

She groans as she heaves herself off of him, fixing her underwear so it’s back in place as she stands in front of him, whilst he lies back watching her.

He giggles as he watches her, causing her to quickly look at him questioningly.

“Nah, not you,” he smiles, sitting up and kissing her hip as her hand finds the back of his head. “I was just thinking, this really is shirts off shit,” he laughs resting his chin on her stomach and looking up to her whilst she scratches her nails against his stubble.

She laughs.

“Gaming it out, yeah?” She raises her eyebrows, smiling, bending down to kiss him before pulling away and walking to the bathroom as he huffs, leaning back against the sofa and looking at the ceiling, taking in this feeling of euphoria.

“I’m going to clean up. You better get some ideas for take away. We are still working tonight,” she calls from a distance as he rolls his eyes, standing up to find his damn jacket so he can get his phone.

******

He negotiates with her to work if she stays over, wears his shitty t-shirt and sweatpants whilst working, and if they finish by 10 to enjoy an episode of the Crown. She puts up a fight but eventually accepts; he relatively sure that his plan is exactly what she feels like doing right now.

She is sitting sprawled across his couch in a new t-shirt (ACDC) but the same sweatpants, her feet in his lap, her laptop settled on her thighs as she bites her lip looking at a document, whilst he stares at the empty Chinese food, casually reaching for an egg roll every so often.

**He thinks he’s going to go online just now and buy a whole bunch of band t-shirts for her to wear; plant them in his drawers for her without her knowing. Maybe he can find her a few Fleetwood Mac or Heart ones and see if she notices. Maybe a Kylie Minogue one.**

He laughs at the thought.

“What are you laughing at?” She asks, still focusing her eyes over the rim of her glasses at her laptop screen.

“Nothing,” he responds, absently stroking her bared foot, typing a search for potential band t-shirts.

She hums suspiciously until she reels back what she’s come up with.

“Okay, so he’s probably going to ask about Mo’s behaviour, if I knew anything of the sexual assaults, the girl who went overboard. Luckily, I never called him that in any written communication because I’m not a fucking moron so I can just say I never knew of the nickname and I always referred to him as Lester. I can say I knew he had a thing for affairs with younger women but that’s a commonality in these parts and there was never an indication of his behaviour on the cruises. Ehm…” she continues, scrolling down as he ceases his search, giving her his full attention.

“Then, obviously, I never knew anything about the girls and whilst I knew about the girl going overboard, it was made out to be a tragic accident, rather than something she was driven to? That I never would allow that because of the ethical code under the American Bar Associaton, yada yada yada, and the duty to report it and so on. Can you think of anything else?” She asks looking up to him.

“Uhm…,” he hesitates, thinking. “They might ask you about Baird? Whether he knew anything?”

He shrugs, pursing his lips, stroking her ankle now.

“Oh my god, yeah. Good point,” she says looking back down to her document and quickly typing as he scrolls back through the band t-shirts, adding a few to his basket, ensuring they were over-sized, so she was comfortable.

She types for a few more minutes, until she sighs again to get his attention.

“Okay. So, Baird never told me anything like that. We didn’t discuss work at home because we wanted to keep personal and professional life separate. He never told me anything like that when he gave me a hand over when I became General Counsel. You think I should mention his cheating to try and give me an edge? They might have more sympathy for me if they think I was a sad little wife sitting at home with my 3-year-old and swollen stomach whilst he was potentially involved in all that?” She looks up at him so naturally, no emotion in her voice, as if she had suggested that Baird used to enjoy skiing in the winter.

His hand stills and his eyes widen, whilst she looks at him expectantly for an answer.

**She had hinted at this before, but she had never really outright told her.**

“Is that true?” He asks calmly.

“Oh yeah,” she says matter-of-factly. “He was a good man, but he could be weak. There was a few here and a few there. He thought he was good at covering his tracks. It destroyed me at first because I was pregnant with Charlotte and Maddie was only young then. He promised it didn’t mean anything; it’s because he was too drunk, with the guys. You know, the usual shit. Happened a few more times after that, and then he took up long term with one of them for eight years but,” she shrugs, not continuing her sentence, simply looking back down at her document.

“I’m sorry, Gerri,” he offers sadly, stroking along her shin. “That’s fucking brutal.”

“It was at the time, but I got over it,” she smiles weakly.

“I have to say, you seem really chill about something that is really fucking enraging me right now,” he puffs, pushing his hand through his hair and returning it to her knee.

“Rome,” she starts sweetly. “It was a long time ago. I was really angry at the time and you don’t really get over the hurt and betrayal, but I’ve moved on. Baird hasn’t even been here for five years. You just view the relationship differently. Sex is only one aspect of that. Yeah, it was really fucking shitty, but it doesn’t negate that he was a good husband in every other way, and a really caring father, especially in his later years. It didn’t stop me loving him,” she smiles. “Don’t upset yourself over it because I’m not upset by it.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Gerri. I want you to know that,” he tells her firmly, his eyes never leaving hers as he watches smile.

**Her nose is wrinkling, the lines by her eyes apparent, her teeth showing as the edges of her lips rise. She looks so fucking cute. How could anyone betray her? He tries to remember what she looked like when she was that age. Wonders if he can remember properly. Imagines her heartache when she found out. Her rage as she confronted him about it. And to be honest, it’s put a whole new light on Baird from being the bore he remembers that he doesn’t think he’s willing to forgive and forget.**

“I know, honey. Don’t worry about it,” she soothes. “But my question,” she giggles, kicking her foot, “is whether you think I should mention it.”

“Ehm…” he offers, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, I don’t know. Like would it make you look better to them and to the wider public, sure? But like is it _going_ to go public because you need to think about if that’s the kind of image you want people to have of Baird, if you loved him? Is that what you want your daughters to have as an image of their dad? Do you want that kind of pity from people? I think that’s the questions you need to ask yourself,” he reasons with a thoughtful pout.

She takes a moment to think, biting the inside of her cheek.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want any of that. Especially not for the girls,” she reasons.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want that out about my saint of a dad if it were me,” he shrugs.

“He wasn’t a saint,” she looks at him blinking slowly. “But I know what you mean. I think I’ll need to figure out how confidential this really is going to be at the beginning of it before I make my decision,” she looks back down, typing something out again. “See, you’re such a great help. I’m so glad you made me do this here,” she smiles. “I probably wouldn’t have considered that.”

**He feels a small pride within him. It happened rarely when he could really help Gerri, outside charming someone. He can feel his chest puffing as she looks at him with her appraising smile.**

“Glad to be of service, ma’am,” he offers saluting her and moving to the checkout of this site on his phone. “So, are you going to divulge the top-secret information from the meeting with my dad and the board meeting?”

“Oh yeah. Well the conference with your dad was as expected. A lot of shouting about how this was a bunch of bullshit. But it’s more or less what I told you. We told him that the best way to go was to try absolving himself of any liability by blaming it on Karl. Saying that he doesn’t remember signing it. It could have been put under his nose and he wasn’t sure what he was signing. A weak defence, which is of course the point. But with Karl there to testify at the hearing that he did knowingly sign it and with Weissel backing that up, then using his own defence of coercion with Greg and possibly Tom as a backup,” she shrugs instead of finishing her sentence.

“So, it’s looking good?” He asks.

“Don’t forget that the EEOC is only there to look into sexual assault allegations against the company. Our aim here is to show it wasn’t the company, but it was individuals within that company. So, if we can get Karl and cronies to make out it was all Logan, and Logan to make it out it was all Karl, it’s being pinned down to two people not the whole company. Of course, the victims could go after the company due to vicarious liability. The usual outcomes of these hearings are for the company to come up with a settlement with the victims which we’ve already started anyway. What we can hope for is a no further action against the company, so we are all clean and then let the EEOC pass the information on to be used in the criminal cases against Karl and your dad.”

“Righhhtt. Okay. That makes more sense. So, dad agreed to it? To just deny everything?”

“Yeah. It took a little getting there but yeah. He knows that bringing it back to the company will sink us and he doesn’t want that. He thinks the reasonable doubt surrounding it is enough,” she bites her lip.

“Well, that’s something. What about the board?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh. Well that! Well the meeting itself was usual. They actually were excited about Ace Airlines and the streaming platform. But what was more interesting was that James asked me to stay behind at the end,” she raises her eyebrows.

“Ohhh. Did you have to break another heart?” He sniggers, as she kicks him.

“No. He asked what my interest level was in being CEO and Chair permanently,” she says hopefully, biting her lip.

“Oh my god, really?” He asks her excitedly, twisting towards her, her foot still in his lap.

“Yeah,” she breathes, still astounded by the whole thing.

“Well, what did you say?”

“I told him I would be interested, but I made sure to kind of stay on the fence, not be too eager in case it was a Logan trap. Apparently, there have been whispers of me being made permanent behind Logan’s back because of the huge turnaround in the handling of this shitstorm with both projection and popularity. But I told him that whilst I was interested, I would rather stay as interim until the shit with Logan is over in the case he wants to come back. You know your dad is working in the background with them as well, so he said that would have been the plan anyway. He wants me to keep the conversation confidential, so they also don’t need to feel your dad’s wrath. But it seems that they too don’t seem to think he’s going to be back,” she says biting her lip, a small smile on it.

“That’s brilliant, Gerri. You deserve it,” he smiles genuinely, stroking her calf.

“Yeah? I know it’s your dad,” she offers, stretching forward to place her hand on top of his. “It’s not something you need to be excited about. I can understand if you’re a bit torn.”

“No, Gerri. I’m genuinely thrilled for you. My dad thought he was going to sink you and you’ve thrived. I’m glad everyone is starting to see it; see you. You’ve earned it,” he smiles, lifting her hand and kissing the palm.

“Honey,” she whispers, looking at him. “It’s not going to be immediate anyway. Even if it does happen. It could all go to shit and this is just a Logan ploy. Stranger things have happened,” she shrugs looking back at her laptop.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

She types for a few more minutes, looking at him a few times over the rims of her glasses, noting that he’s put his phone down, simply concentrating on the massage he’s issuing to her foot, when she decides to close the laptop.

“Come on,” she smiles. “Let’s get into bed and watch the Crown,” she says drawing her foot away from him and placing her laptop on the coffee table.

He splutters, looking up to the clock on his shelf.

“It’s only 9.20? We agreed ten,” he looks up to her as she stands in front of him stretching.

“Well, just enough time for two episodes. Or one episode and round two before we get some sleep. I will need to get up early to go home and change as well,” she smiles, holding her hand out to him as he takes it, standing.

“You’re the fucking best,” he says wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing her soundly, pressing her forehead against hers.

“Come on,” she pulls away, keeping a hold of his hand as they walk to the bedroom. “Princess Alice comes into this one.”

“Princess who?”

“The queen’s mother in law. She’s great. You’re gonna like her.”

*****

She’s in the lift with Roman on their way up to Logan’s apartment.

_All she knows is that they’ve been summoned by Logan. She doesn’t know why she’s here. She thought they had agreed that it was bad publicity for her to ever potentially be seen here. Roman however, doesn’t seem as bothered; seems less stressed about it than she does._

She feels him talking her hand, stroking it firmly and for some reason she lets him; the anxiety in her stomach rising, a foreboding feeling eating her up.

They step out into the huge foyer, noting how dark and cold it is. She looks around for any sign of life; straining to look at the room ahead, for any sign of Marcia’s usual welcome, for any sign of him.

“Hello?” She hears a nonchalant Roman shout, his quick footsteps echoing against the hardwood floors. “Pop? Marcia?”

_She feels like something isn’t right. Like they’re being set up._

“Roman,” she whispers but he doesn’t hear her over his continued echo’s for Marcia now, having continued into the living room towards the huge doors leading to the study.

She follows slower, taking small steps, looking around her, wondering why the rooms were so fucking dark, only small lamps illuminating them.

“Hiya pop,” she hears Roman greet as she continues towards the large doors leading to the study, Roman plonking himself on an armchair.

Logan, however, unsettlingly doesn’t respond.

“Hey Logan. How are you?” She asks lightly as she enters the room, standing behind Roman’s antique armchair, holding onto the wooden rim at the top of it; feeling her fingernails scraping against the wood.

Logan doesn’t say a word. Merely huffs and takes a sip of his drink, swallowing slowly and staring at the both of them.

_She knows this isn’t good. They have been called here for a battle. She can feel it._

Her fingers tense against the wood as Roman seems to be completely unaware of anything in front of her.

“You having a stroke again, pop?” Roman sniggers, leaning on the arm of the chair and making himself comfortable.

Logan stares at Roman angrily, then looks down to his glass, swishing it in a circle.

“So, when were you both going to tell me?”

_Tell him what? There was number of things they could have told him._

“What do you mean?” She pipes up anxiously, trying to hide any semblance of fear though she feels she’s failing there.

Roman remains quiet, looking at Logan casually.

“When were you going to tell me that you were both fucking snakes who are plotting to overthrow me behind my back?” Logan looks at them both with the ghost of a small smirk on his face, likely revelling in the falling of their faces.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says exasperated, as Roman laughs awkwardly.

“Come on. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Gerri. You’ve been plotting. Plotting to get rid of me. And you,” he directs at Roman, “fucking the help? Honestly.”

Gerri doesn’t think she could feel any more fucking flabbergasted. _The help?_

“The help?” Roman asks innocently.

“Her,” he gestures his head to Gerri, whilst never taking his eyes off of Roman.

“Gerri?” Roman asks innocently, feigning loud laughter. “Why the fuck would I fuck Gerri?”

“You tell me you fucked up little prick,” he fires at him. “I mean I knew you wanted to fuck your mother, but this takes the fucking cake!”

She can feel her anxiety rising as she watches Logan’s anger rising.

“I’m not fucking…” Roman begins but is cut off by Logan shouting.

“You’ve been caught! Al at the front test? Works for me you fucking imbecile!” He booms, shifting in his chair. “You think I wouldn’t be watching your fucking apartment building when you could fuck up at any fucking moment! You think that fuckwit Al would be so pally to you if I wasn’t paying him to be?”

_Holy fucking shit. She knew she should never have gone to his apartment!_

“Overnight stays. Pretending it’s because of the media. Very fucking romantic. I suppose you don’t think I’m smart enough to be in contact with your cleaning service as well. They give me full updates on what you get up to, including that there is never a fucking spare room bed to make up. You think I was born fucking yesterday!”

“Dad, I can explain,” Roman starts weakly, but is cut off again.

“I don’t want to hear about your fucking perversion!” He huffs. “I expected this from him Gerri, but you? I thought you were better than that? Thought you would never shit where you eat with the exception of Baird.”

_She considers lying like Roman has. But then she thinks back to Austria. Telling him straight was her only saving grace._

“It’s easily explained,” she begins calmly, taking a deep breath. “Roman and I have become close and,” she explains until she is cut off again by his roaring.

“Didn’t I fucking say I didn’t want to hear about this fucking perversion?!” Logan stands up, pacing around. “I’m noting that neither have you have denied your fucking treason!”

_Her anxiety is starting to peak. Logan Roy could be a frightening fucking man. She had a near miss in Austria and had evaded it each other time. But she feels like this time she’s not going to get out of this one. Not since his heart attack had made him more edgy and unpredictable. Maybe telling the truth wasn’t the best course of action?_

She takes a deep breath, unsure what to say, whilst Roman squirms in his chair, clearly waiting for her to take the lead

“Logan, I don’t know who’s trying to influence you, but I can assure you it isn’t true,” she offers, her nails almost tearing into the fabric at the top of the chair now.

“Did you or did you fucking not encourage Karl to say he signed those documents under duress whilst being bullied by me, whilst simultaneously telling me to blame it on Karl?”

“I don’t think,” Roman starts before he is interrupted again.

“Was I fucking talking to you?” He towers over Roman whilst looking back up at Gerri who jumps at the abrupt roaring.

“Come on, Gerri. When have you ever lied to me?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Roman had nothing to do with it,” she tells him categorically, looking him directly in the eye.

“Not quite honest, is it?” He looks at her. “Romulus?”

“He didn’t have anything to do with it,” she repeats.

Roman stands up in front of his dad, holding his hands up in hopes of allowing his dad to back off from Gerri a bit.

“Look dad. It was me too,” Roman tells him quietly, offering a sigh.

Everything happens so fast that she barely has time to react.

Logan raises his hand to Roman smacking him across the face as Roman winces, losing his footing on impact.

“No!” She shouts holding her hand out over the armchair, however, Logan already had Roman by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him back up to his face and steering him towards the sofa behind him.

“After all I’ve done for you, you ungrateful little fucking rodent!” He sneers as he pushes a panicked looking Roman towards the couch, the back of his knees hitting it before he falls down onto it.

“Stop it Logan!” She screams grasping the armchair and trying to manoeuvre around it.

However, Logan doesn’t stop, as he pulls his hand back battering Roman on the face once again, twice before she reaches him.

“Let him go!” She shouts, before Logan pulls away from Roman, back handing her across the face, the force of collision instantly throwing her to the floor, as the searing pain envelops her jaw and the side of her eye as her glasses fall to the floor.

She is sparkled a little as she sits up, only hearing Roman’s painful grunts, his pleads for his father to stop, as she struggles onto her knees to get up, whilst Logan continuously beats him.

“You worthless,”

Hit.

“little,”

Smack

“fucking,”

Crack,

“nobody.”

Punch.

“Stop,” she strangles out as she finally gets to her feet.

“Get out of here, Gerri,” she hears Roman screaming panicked as he takes another blow, her name coming in a scream that echoes the room.

She finally gets to Logan, grasping at his arm and shoulder forcefully to try and stop the bear of a man from hurting Roman anymore.

However, it backfires, and he sets his sights on her, grasping her arms and moving her backwards towards the armchair; Roman left to suffer sparkled on the couch.

“You little fucking cunt. Didn’t I give you every fucking opportunity when no one would ever have done that? Even let you keep your job when you wouldn’t put out?” He sneers, his eyes wild, his face contorted, something she has seen before but never on the receiving end of.

_She doesn’t need to deny that she’s fucking afraid. He is a lot bigger than her and a lot stronger, he could easily dominate her. She didn’t know what to do._

“Yes. Yes, you did,” she winces, tears running down her cheeks, as she tries to grasp his forearms that have hers in a lock.

She can hear Roman groaning in the background.

“You’re just like the rest of them though, aren’t you?” He asks her with a smirk, pushing her down onto the armchair. “You just have to learn the hard way,” he takes a deep breath as he draws his arm back, her wincing, closing her eyes, cowering in preparation for the blow.

However, she hears a loud crash above her, opening her eyes quickly and seeing Roman, his face almost recognisable with its swollen eyes and blood running everywhere, standing above his father with a shattered lamp as Logan winces at the impact, falling on top of her.

She looks up to his shocked expression when Olivia Coleman as Queen Elizabeth II appears next to him speaking.

“Well, this is a frightful mess, isn’t it?”

She awakes with a start, gasping as she opens her eyes, her heart beating out of her chest, trying to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark room, trying to understand the arm draped over her waist.

She sits up quickly, breathing heavily, touching her jaw and feeling no pain at all as she recognises the sound beside her.

“Gerri,” Roman says sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

She reaches over to the lamp, turning it on, seeing her glasses and throwing them on, as she feels his hand stroking her thigh.

She looks around to him, realising she’s in his room, taking in his sleepy form, his completely unbeaten form. She reaches for his face, taking his jaw in both of her hands and searching it wildly, finding not a scratch on him.

“Fuck,” she breathes in relief, letting go of his face, covering her own with her hands and lying back against the pillows.

“What- What happened?” He asks more awake now, propped up his elbow looking down at her, as she removes her hands, her eyes still tightly shut.

“I had the most vivid fucking dream,” she breathes, her chest still heaving as she tries to calm it. “Your dad knew about us and about us betraying him and he started beating you,” she reveals, finally opening her eyes.

“Not really farfetched him beating me,” he laughs, his hand settling on her stomach.

“It’s not funny!” She shouts, “it was fucking frightening.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he soothes her gently, rubbing her stomach. “You want to tell me about it?” He asks, too sleepy not to lie back down on his pillow, listening to her which she notes.

“Go back to sleep. I think I’m going to go home,” she announces, about to sit up.

“No, stop!” He says with a hand on her shoulder. “You’re fucking shaking. Come here,” he says holding his arms out.

She hesitates but moves over into his embrace, burying her head in his neck for once and wrapping around him.

“Tell me what happened,” he encourages softly.

“It was horrible, Roman,” she mumbles. “He outed us and was saying that we were perverted and didn’t even want to even hear about it. I told him it was my plan to fuck his defence and you had nothing with to do it. Then you tried to be fucking chivalrous and take the fucking blame which was when he started beating you up. I tried to stop him, and he hit me. I fell to the floor and I could just hear you screaming in pain. Then I finally got up and grabbed him. He went for me, pushed me back into the armchair and said he gave me an opportunity when no one else would have and that he let me keep my job even when I wouldn’t fuck him. Then said I had to learn the hard way. I think he was about to hit me again and then you clocked him with a lamp. He fell on top of me and fucking Queen Elizabeth from the Crown shows up and I woke up,” she settles in deeper to him, her arm wrapped around his waist, taking in the faded smell of his aftershave; allowing it to tranquilise her.

“Fuck. That sounds intense,” he rubs her back. “Did he really try to fuck you?”

“Back in like the 00’s, yeah. Just after Baird retired. He was drunk. We were in London, I think. I said no because I was married. I got a brief apology the next day and an unexplained pay rise.”

“Fuck. What a fucking asshole,” he says pulling her closer, his anger for his father increasing.

“Fuck. I really thought that dream was real. Was fucking terrifying.”

“Apart from Olivia Coleman,” he laughs a little. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. I can’t get that image of your fucking battered, bleeding face out of my head,” she sighs, tightening her hold on him.

“Would looking at my pretty stunning face right now help? I’ve always said it belongs as a work of art. A sculpture or a painting, perhaps?” He jokes, moving his head to kiss her temple.

“No,” she laughs lightly, pulling him closer.

“You think you’re scared we’re gonna get caught? What the consequences of that are?”

“I don’t know, Rome. Maybe,” she responds, kissing his neck.

“We can back out you know. You can go back to being General Counsel. Let my dad take over. We can even…” he huffs. “We can even break up if you’re afraid of what will happen? If you think it’s perverted?”

“No, Rome,” she sighs into his neck. “I don’t want to break up. I just got scared from the dream is all. Why do you think we should?” She pulls back a little to look at him.

“No. I don’t think we should. Fucking Kris Jenner is older than you and has a boyfriend my age. No one bats an eyelid,” he comments.

“Did you just fucking compare me to Kris fucking Jenner?” She laughs lightly.

“Only your age,” he smiles, kissing her lips.

“Do you think we should back out of the stuff with your dad?” She asks nervously when he pulls back.

“No. I think you had a shitty nightmare because you’re worried. That’s to be expected,” he says rubbing his nose against hers.

She hums in response, closing her eyes.

After a few minutes of rubbing her back and feeling her chest and breathing calm, he speaks.

“You feel a bit better now?” He asks gently.

“Mhm,” she nods against his neck.

“Then why don’t you turn out the lamp and get some more sleep before you need to leave this fucking statuesque face?” He says tapping her ass in good measure.

“Fuck, maybe I should have let you perish,” she comments sitting up to take her glasses off and turning out the lamp.

“You couldn’t live without this face,” he smiles as she burrows back into him.

“Mmm, looks like I can’t,” she smiles into his neck, pecking it before drifting back off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to anyone who takes the time to read, kudos and comment on this.  
> I have had the roughest week, in the darkest of places, and didn't think I could go on with anything never mind this and the comments I've read have been such a glimmer of small hope in my life. They mean so much. Thank you so much.


	8. Scenes from a Showdown

It’s been a really shitty week if he’s being honest.

She had seemed off with him the next day at the office. She had left his apartment without a word, without a note, without a text. He had tried to approach her at lunchtime trying to ask her in some secret language if she was okay, but she had been pretty dismissive, waving him away, telling him she had prep to do for her EEOC meeting the next day.

He had put it down to her nerves about the meeting, the worry of how she could come across, the panic of how it could reflect on Waystar.

She had been the same when he had phoned her that night; uninterested in his usual jesting and flirting, distracted as he heard her typing on her laptop, and quickly getting off the phone with a mumbled “love you too” when he had tried to be cute. He had hoped once the interview was over, she would be better.

He had spent the next day liaising with Karolina over possible Hawaii venues, finding one that looked pretty fucking sweet. However, he found himself constantly checking his watch, adding up the time she had been in the meeting with them.

They had taken her into the south tank, a fucking annoyance to him considering he couldn’t spy on the situation; couldn’t look at her body language, couldn’t pick up the small gestures he had collected over the past year that indicated to him when she was bluffing or putting on her stellar act for others. He wonders if anyone else knew these signs. He had only picked them up when she had started telling him her true thoughts, her true feelings, and her hidden motivations. When he first started seeing her acting completely different in company to how she had told him she really felt, he wondered how many times he had been conned by her himself in a boardroom before their unification. How many times had he ignorantly witnessed it before his very eyes as she ran rings around his father without him knowing. He had known Gerri was cunning, however, he hadn’t known how much of a master of deception she could really be when it came to making the right moves.

He had beelined for her office soon after she appeared from the meeting, her poker face just as present as always.

“So, how’d it go?” He asks closing the door behind him, walking towards her desk.

“Fine. Just fine,” she answers curtly, writing energetically in a notebook.

“Just fine?” He asks her, his eyes going wide, throwing his hands up in the air looking for an expansion on that, deciding against sitting in the chair in front of her desk he was about to cosy into.

“Yeah,” she says sharply, not looking up to him, continuing her writing.

He shakes his head, frowning at her shortness.

“So, that’s it?” He asks with a bit more bite. “They just ask you questions? Make you a cup of tea? Give you a massage with a happy ending? No fucking fear tactics? Waterboarding? Nipple clamps?” He laughs a little, exasperated. “You were in there for nearly three hours, Gerri?”

She huffs, ceasing her writing and looking up at him finally. “Roman. I don’t have time for this. I need to try and write down everything I remember saying so I don’t forget. As you pointed out, that’s 3 hours of information I had to give which I now need to write down. So, if you wouldn’t mind fucking the fuck off before you distract me into forgetting?”

She raises her eyebrows at him, looking back down to her notepad and writing quickly again.

His mouth drops open.

**What a fucking bitch.**

“No problem, boss man,” he gives her, his tone sour, as he turns around and leaves the room.

It hadn’t gotten much better after that. He had stayed in a mood with her all day. Refusing to go and see her, refusing to call her when he had got home that night, refusing to even send a text. However, it hadn’t stopped him consistently checking his phone to see if she had messaged.

He wasn’t going to be the one to message her. She was the one who owed him a fucking apology for being cold and bitchy for no fucking reason.

However, he was starting to feel more nervous when he had woken the next morning and still received nothing from her, though he was still not ready to concede.

They had the meeting with the goons from Ace Airlines that day, which she had previously insisted he attend. He had hoped she would be in a better fucking mood today and actually fucking apologise, but that was wishful fucking thinking.

He had gone into her office half an hour before the meeting was due to start and she was all business from the get-go. She was distractedly handing out orders as she paced the room, barely willing to look him in the eye. He wasn’t in the mood to try and jest with her so just sat quietly on the sofa, writing down notes on his pad as she said them. He didn’t even really take them in, he was basically just a transcriber at this point.

“What’s with you today?” She had asked him as they walked towards the conference room.

 **What’s with fucking me?** He had almost shouted though tried to keep his fucking cool. He didn’t want to bite. Didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“Nothin’,” he had answered shortly, hoping to give her a taste of her own medicine.

She had rolled her eyes, turning to look at him directly, just short of entering the room.

“Well, you need to get it together. I’m relying on you to finesse these guys and help me figure out if any of them are actually competent,” she whispers harshly.

“Yes, mein fuhrer,” he whispers back harshly before rolling his eyes and walking around her and slapping the glass door to the room open, not holding it open for her.

“What up!? I’m Roman, for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of already meeting me,” he declares dramatically, walking to his usual seat.

“Jesus Christ,” he hears her whisper under her breath behind him.

He had stayed relatively quiet throughout the meeting, she taking the lead, to discuss the figures, projection, business models, whilst the four guys there, two of which they had previously met in London with Edwin, had waffled through a bunch of information. He just listened diligently, taking notes, asking the odd question when something had occurred to him. He felt like he had already sussed these guys out. The two new goons were exactly that. Fucking goons. Tom types as she had called it. Then one of the dudes they had met before seemed like a Frank type. Smart and willing to make the odd joke but willing to play for whoever was paying his wage. The last one however, Harold. He was a top class pompous English asshole. Definitely team Edwin.

They had it planned to take them all out after the meeting at _Per se_ , then Gerri would excuse herself whilst Roman offered to take them out for drinks at a bar.

First though, they had gone to their offices to get their things before they left, where Roman had shared his determinations of each of the goons to Gerri. To his surprise, she had been a little more relaxed, agreeing with everything he had said, suggesting that Dana was looking more and more likely. The Frank type seemed like the only plausible option, but she was unwilling to put all of her eggs into that one basket and her trust into one guy. She would determine more after dinner. The strategy was for him to work on the two new ones, Craig and Mark, whilst it was her job to work on Harold and Graeme.

It felt horrible to be in this shaky situation with Gerri. He didn’t know what he had done to get on her bad side in the past few days. Even in their impromptu meeting, she had been stand-offish, a far cry from their usual flirtation when they had moments alone like that. It felt shit going out for dinner with Gerri, even if it was a bunch of guys, with this atmosphere between them. Luckily, they had been placed on opposite sides of the table, Roman offering early shots to the guys, recommending the best scotch on the menu to them to get them progressively hyped and loose-lipped.

His two goons were easy to wrap around his finger. He would easily get them shit-faced and talking in no time. What had surprised him was that when Gerri and Harold had excused themselves after dinner in favour of an early night, Graeme had offered himself to come out with the guys. They had started in a bar where they had been pumped for information on the inner workings of the place. Revealing that Edwin wasn’t so popular a leader for the people who actually were competent. Graeme had revealed that with upper management, with the exception of Harold, Edwin was actually pretty disliked. Except for Neanderthals like Craig and Mark, who thought his numerous conquests made him a legend, he had been regarded as too busy living the high life to actually put in work. It seemed that, like most other businesses, it was actually all the people around him that kept the business afloat not the legend himself.

Graeme seemed to have been feeling Roman out as well, asking about Waystar, asking about Gerri. Roman had been sceptical at first, thinking that Graeme was trying to figure out whether he could date her. That was until he started asking about her as a boss rather than her personal life, and until he had seen Graeme following the ass of a guy who had been crossing the room at the bar. Graeme seemed relieved when Roman had given a rave review of her as the most competent person he had ever met. It seemed that Ace Airlines management might have been through just as shitty a time as they had in recent years for different reasons.

Graeme had bowed out not long after with Roman and his two new buddies ending up in a club. Roman had been sitting in a roped off VIP area sipping some champagne as they had excitedly been going between talking to women and on the dancefloor grinding up against them which he had declined to join. He had been ready to call it a night, checking the time on his phone, when a song came on that he had recognised.

The beat was really familiar, but he had no idea how he knew it.

He had gone onto Shazam, waiting for the app to pick up the name of the song when the chorus had begun and he knew instantly.

**_I’m thinking of you and the things you do to me._ **

**_That makes me love you, now I'm living in ecstasy._ **

He had smiled as the song had continued playing and the app on his phone had brought up, _Thinking of you, Sister Sledge._

He had heard the song when he had been listening to her disco playlist, a few nights ago. Every now and then he would listen to her playlists, thinking of her. They actually did have a really good beat that he was growing used to.

He smiles again, videoing the room, the flashing lights really the only thing that can be made out on the camera, but the point being that he wanted it to pick up the song.

He smiled, opening her conversation, adding the video in and typing.

**_Roman: Thinking of you x_ **

He looked at the message, second guessing whether he should send it or not. Considering he had been a bit drunk he had realised that he been feeling a bit vulnerable, a bit self-conscious with how she had seemed to have been uninterested in him. It wasn’t that she would only talk about work with him; he was used to that. But often there would be the hint of a smile, a hint of flirtation, a hint of care between them even throughout the workday. Since that interview, he had just felt a bit of distance.

He sent the message. He figured that he could for once not be the childish, stubborn one. That he could allow himself to be the one to show that he could be the mature one and be the first to make a move.

He received a text relatively quickly.

**_Gerri: A classic. Written and produced by my guys in Chic, you know. Nile Rogers and Bernard Edwards._ **

He had smiled, thinking of her tucked up in her bed, opening it, a small smile playing on her lips, sharing some weird disco music trivia with him. Though he felt a bit hurt that she still wasn’t biting at his affection. He had responded immediately.

**_Roman: Wish you were here instead of these two losers._ **

He had looked across the dancefloor, seeing the one he knew was fucking married with his tongue down a girl’s throat. He rolled his eyes as he felt his phone vibrate in his hand.

**_Gerri: How’s it going with them?_ **

He frowns again, pissed off that she has again shafted his attempt at being flirtatious.

**_Roman: They are both getting their dicks wet so pretty good I would imagine._ **

He had huffed, picking up his coat and pushing against all the people on the dancefloor to bid them a farewell. He reached Craig, who was definitely fleeing from whatever the fuck he’d taken, shouting a goodbye in his ear when he had felt his phone vibrate again.

He pushed past everyone, looking at his phone as he made his way out of the club.

**_Gerri: As long as you aren’t getting your dick wet, I don’t give a shit about theirs._ **

He grinned, moving out to the freezing cold air, finally feeling some hope.

**_Roman: Who said I wasn’t?_ **

He smiled at his teasing as he hailed a cab, jumping into the back, watching as the small dots appeared and disappeared again. Frowning and then smiling as he watched them reappear.

**_Gerri: I shouldn’t be shocked at how quickly your attention can be pulled away when you’re supposed to be working._ **

He hadn’t expected a big declaration of jealousy from her, but it would have been nice.

**_Roman: What can I say? I am a mere mortal._ **

He was hoping to jibe her into something, though he doubts it would work. Sassy aloof Gerri was part of her charm when they would jibe back and forth. He looks out of the window, passing numerous clubs with guys pushing girls up against the walls as they eat their face off, watching as girls throw up in the street with exhausted friends holding back their hair.

He doesn’t miss it, really. But he wishes he could go out just once with her. Be anonymous, get drunk, see her dance moves, kiss her in a booth, take her back to his apartment and have a good drunken fuck. He doesn’t think that’s ever going to happen.

**_Gerri: You’re the furthest thing from a mortal I’ve ever met. I think you genuinely believe you’re a child of Zeus, accidentally placed here on Earth._ **

He laughed at that, unable to think of anything witty to respond.

**_Roman: Like Hercules. Simply waiting for the day that I can be revealed as the true God I am._ **

The car had pulled up to his apartment as he waited to see if she would respond, nervously bit his nails in the elevator as he looked at the conversation.

Finally, when he had entered his apartment, his phone had finally vibrated.

**_Gerri: Don’t stay out too late. You have the meeting with Christopher tomorrow._ **

He wondered if she really is worried that he’s getting his dick wet or if she was all business. He wondered if he should call her or if he should just keep her guessing. He doesn’t want to do that to her, he’s not a fucking dick.

**_Roman: Already home._ **

He ripped his jacket off, throwing it on the chair next to his door, walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water before he padded into his bedroom. Throwing off his clothing, brushing his teeth and getting into bed before checking his phone.

**_Gerri: Alone?_ **

He smiled at that, one little word finally giving a little insight into her thoughts.

He took a chance, clicking on her name, only one ring until she answered.

“Yeah. Did you think I was being serious?” His answer instantly a response to her message.

He waited silently for a response, hearing only a sigh before she eventually spoke.

“No. Just wanted to try and evade any catastrophic publicity before it happened,” he heard shuffling on the other end. She had sounded sleepy, likely in bed.

“It’s okay to admit to being jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” she affirmed sighing.

“Mmm… I think Gerri has the green-eyed monster,” he laughed, teasing her.

“Roman. You’re not the first person to cheat on me. I dealt with it last time. I would deal with it again,” she had bit harshly.

He had forgotten about that. Forgotten about Baird and what she had revealed to him only two nights ago. He felt like a fucking dick.

“Gerri. I didn’t even look at another girl, never mind get my dick wet from one,” he told her softly.

“It’s fine,” she had returned sharply.

“No. I don’t think you believe me. I was just messing with you. I told you I would never do that,” he had said a little pleadingly.

“Okay.”

There had been an awkward silence.

“You think I would send you that video telling you I was literally thinking about you if I was sitting with another girl on my lap?” He asks her gently. “Why the fuck would I want anyone else when I have you?”

She hummed on the other end of the phone, not willing to give a response.

“What’s wrong?” He had asked abruptly and a little harshly, sitting up in his bed.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she had protested.

“Well, it seems like something is fucking wrong because you’ve hardly spoken to me in the past few days,” he fired back.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“What happened in the meeting Gerri?”

“Nothing. Everything we predicted. I evaded everything,” she told him nonchalantly.

“Then why the fuck have you been so off with me?”

“I haven’t been off with you at all.”

“You fucking have. You have! Can barely make a fucking joke with you!”

“Roman. Just because you got butt hurt because I didn’t have time to speak to you after the meeting yesterday doesn’t mean there’s a problem. You need to grow up.”

“I need to grow up?” He asked her incredulously.

“Yeah,” he heard her getting harsher, sitting up in the bed. “I’m too old for these fucking games,” she fired at him angrily.

“Games? If anyone is playing games here, it’s you. Mrs fucking poker face. How do I even know you didn’t go into that meeting and give my name up? Throw me to the dogs.”

He had said it in anger and frustration at the situation. It hadn’t even crossed his mind before that moment, but he regretted it the minute he had said it.

He had heard a small gasp on the other end of the phone and an emotional “fuck you,” before she had hung up the phone.

“Fuck you,” he had shouted into the phone angrily when he had looked down to see she was no longer on the line.

****

The next day had been no better. Thank fuck he was meeting with Christopher and she had more meetings with the Ace Airline cunts so he could avoid her. He had given Frank the information about the morons to pass onto her, claiming he was too busy to brief her.

The meeting with Christopher had lasted most of the day, looking at different designs of the sites he had brought over.

He took Christopher to lunch, hoping to get away from the constant temptation to glance at Gerri when she eventually returned to her office.

When they had returned, he had started looking at different names for the platform.

_Starbright. Starlight. Super Star. Five Star. Star Quality. All-Star. Cinestar._

He was torn between Starbright, Cinestar, and All-Star. He had thought Starbright was the best but thought it was maybe too close to Brightstar. He didn’t know if that was the genius of it. Literally just flipping it around. Or if it just looked fucking stupid. Then there was Cinestar which used star but was what it said on the box. And if he were honest, he just liked All-Star because it made him think of Shrek which was a classic fucking movie. 

He wanted to ask Gerri but was unwilling to right now. Maybe he could start an office poll?

He decided to hold off and take some time to decide on it instead, shaking Christopher’s hand before he left at 5pm.

He returned to his office, watching through the glass as people started turning off their computers, waving each other goodbye, planning to go to a bar with each other. Karolina had popped her head in to say goodbye too.

It was Friday night, and they had all decided to take Saturday and Sunday off for the first time in months, wishing to give everyone a break after the gruesome investigations this week. Two days off with literally fuck all to do. Why was his life so tragic? They also had to go to England on Monday night. A charity associated with Ace Airlines was having a ball and they needed to show face as the new heads. The thought of that had been previously exciting. Two nights sleep with Gerri all to himself had been a godsend but now, not so much.

He looks up to her now, huffing and feeling stupid for what he had said to her last night. It wasn’t cool. He was ready to go and speak to her, but he knew she wouldn’t have any semblance of a conversation with him with the bugged office.

He picks up his personal phone and calls her instead, watching her through the glass as she looks down at the phone and sighs before picking it up and cradling it between her ear and shoulder.

“Hi,” is what he receives.

“Hey. Uh… How you doing?”

It sounds pretty pathetic, but he feels pretty pathetic.

“Fine. How are you?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

There is a silence between them, as he watches her through the glass window continue to type, completely expressionless.

“Look, I’m really sorry for what I said last night. I didn’t mean it. I was angry,” he tries to sound as regretful as possible.

“Yeah, was pretty shitty. I won’t lie to you,” she answers, still typing.

“Yeah, it was. I know you wouldn’t do something like that. I was just pissed off because I miss you and it feels like I’m getting the cold shoulder.”

“I’ve been busy,” she responds curtly again.

“I know. I know. Look, why don’t you come to mine tonight? Or I’ll come to yours? I don’t care which. We can get food. Only have two episodes of the Crown left. New season on Sunday,” he asks her hopefully, watching her every reaction through the glass as she huffs, stops typing and picks the phone up from her shoulder to press to her ear firmly.

“Look, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she responds sadly.

“Okay. That’s fine. What about brunch tomorrow then?” He asks hopefully again, standing up and beginning to walk around his desk to perch on the end, looking at her, as he watches her finally looking up to him through the glass.

“I’m sorry. I already have brunch plans tomorrow,” she sounds down again, and he watches as she bites her bottom lip, looking at him sadly.

“Ehm…” he wavers, not sure where to look. “Okay,” he settles on, rubbing the back of his neck and moving around his desk to pick up his suit jacket.

“I really do have brunch plans,” she repeats. He assumes she is still watching him, but he refuses to look at her, unable to handle the rejection.

“Yeah. That’s cool. Well how about you take a look at your busy diary and let me know when you want to fucking see me,” he says angrily, forcefully putting his suit jacket on still trying balance his phone to his ear.

“Don’t be like this, Ro–,” she starts but cuts herself off before she says his name, revealing who she’s having a phone call with.

“Well,” he scoffs, marching to the door, finally looking at her through the glass again. “I’m sick of chasing you, forcing you to spend any fucking time in my presence so you have a fucking think about it,” he shouts, pausing by his door.

“Don’t be –,” she starts before he hangs up and looks at her angrily whilst she looks back, doe-eyed, lowering the phone slowly from her ear, as he puts the phone in his pocket, throwing the door open and marching out of the building.

****

He doesn’t know what to do with himself when he gets home, opens a package, revealing all of the band t-shirts he had ordered for her. He groans, dumping it on the floor before opting to go to the gym instead, spending an hour there, wearing himself out, blasting rock music in his ears to try and forget everything that’s happened.

When he gets home, he goes for a shower, considers eating, though he decides he can’t stomach it.

He settles in his bed, switching on the tv, going to the first thing he sees, old reruns of Rupaul’s Drag Race. 

He notes she hasn’t messaged. Can’t stop thinking about it now he’s lying here with nothing else to think about.

He turns the tv off after half an hour, lying in the dark room, the drapes open as he watches buildings twinkle around him, only the noise of the street outside penetrating his ears.

He can’t stop thinking. Can’t stop the thoughts coming.

Now that he thinks about it, she’s never really asked to spend time with him. He’s always been the one to encourage her, force them together, or barter with her to get her to be in his company. He doesn’t understand. She always seems to be into it when they are together. She cuddles with him, compliments him, shares her tv show with him, has started sharing her past with him too, and she told him she loved him. Like, how could there be such mixed fucking signals?

Only three nights ago they had laid in this very fucking bed and watched an episode of the Crown before they had sex? Before he had comforted her when she had a shitty nightmare? How could that be so fucking different from three days ago to what was happening now? How the fuck had it suddenly changed?

He thinks about the meeting. He genuinely hadn’t thought she had betrayed him. But now what if she had? What if this actually _was_ all a ploy? He had noticed himself that Gerri was the master of fucking deception. But he tries to rationalise it. Realises his thoughts are running away. He doesn’t believe she would do that to him. He loves Gerri. If she did that, she would be the evillest fucking cunt he’s met in his whole life. He doesn’t believe that’s Gerri. It couldn’t be.

He considers that maybe what they both wanted out of this was just different then. She said she didn’t want the friends with benefits thing but really what was the difference between that and what they were doing now? Well, they loved each other apparently, but didn’t all friends love each other to an extent. Maybe her love for him was different than his love for her?

This is exactly the shit his therapist had been talking about. Jumping into something too quickly, leading to his heart being broken.

But he couldn’t help it. She was his fucking Star of Bethlehem. She was his fucking rock. Sometimes he felt like she was his fucking oxygen. The only one who really fucking got him. He couldn’t have got all of that so wrong? You don’t just feel that fucking intensely without it being legitimate? Do you? He doesn’t fucking know. He’s never been in fucking love before. Not real love. This felt more intense. How the fuck do you separate a fucking disorder to real feelings? Fuck! Why the fuck couldn’t he just be fucking normal?

Why couldn’t this whole thing just be fucking public, so they didn’t have to have fucking secret meetings? Secret conversations. Coded conversations. Why couldn’t she just be more fucking transparent? She was transparent enough when they were alone. Why couldn’t she just do it fucking now?

He wants to phone her and shout at her, but he doesn’t. Keeps checking his phone instead. Decides that it’s driving him too crazy and puts it on airplane mode. Not wanting contact with any of the outside world, knowing that she might have messaged but he just hasn’t seen it, is better than knowing she hasn’t at all.

He doesn’t think he can do this secret relationship anymore. It’s not healthy for him. Not productive for either of them. There was no way she would go public. He would need to end it. Even though the thought makes him feel fucking sick. She would be better off without him anyway. She could concentrate on the business instead of him being a needy fucking puppy.

He wishes he could help it. He wishes he would just be content with what he had. He thought he would be. He thought her generally being around him, seeing her every so often, having her love would be enough. But this was so overwhelming. Not being able to just fucking go to her house to speak to her. Not being able to show up on her doorstep when he was feeling shit. Not being able to openly flirt with her. Not being able to go for fucking dinner or a movie without the fear of who would see and presume something. Not being able to spend a fucking day off with her. The limitations were too much. And him trying to press her into doing things would only be adding further stress onto her as well. If he was with her, he would be stopping her from looking for the person she was supposed to be with. Someone she could openly date, who would take her to dinner, maybe take her dancing, someone she could kiss on her doorstep without worrying about who’s watching, someone she can hold hands with when she’s at a gala.

He starts crying at the thought of it.

He wants nothing more to be that person. It’s all he’s ever wanted. Someone to completely fucking get him. Someone so fucking genuine, caring, sincere, beautiful, majestic, who gave a shit about him. Just the thought of her when she had taken care of him. He remembers how she was, the promises she forced him to make due to her worry. That he needs to be open with her. He wants to be but he’s just not ready to tonight.

He remembers that he’s not supposed to have his phone on airplane mode without telling her.

He picks his phone up, taking it off airplane mode, waiting to see if a notification comes through.

Nothing. Well, nothing from her.

He opens his conversation with her, sending her the message she told him to.

_I’m putting my phone on airplane mode. Don’t know when I will put it back on. Just need some time to myself to think. Just don’t know if I can do this anymore. Hope you have a good weekend x_

He looks at the message after he’s sent it. Waiting for the bubbles to appear. But nothing appears.

He puts his phone back on airplane mode, throwing it onto his bedside table as the tears flow again.

He can’t believe he’s going to have to give up the one thing that he was sure was going to make him happy. Why the fuck it is surprising that nothing went his way though? Why was it a shock that when the best thing that could ever happen to him comes along, that it comes with a contingency? That he isn’t allowed to have it in the way that everyone else would be allowed to? That he can’t just go to her fucking door on his hands and knees and wrap himself around her, smell her fucking perfume, feel her soft lips, her soothing voice, her fingers running through his hair.

He didn’t deserve her. He knows that. He has always known that. He’s not worthy. Gerri Kellman was a woman desired by so many men, respected by everyone on all sides of the boardroom table, the most intelligent person he’s ever been in the same room as, and the only person who has ever shown him the kindness he always wanted. He was beneath her. She probably knew that too. A woman like that would never end up with someone like him. He thinks she will be happy when he tells her. That he’ll be doing her the biggest favour he’s ever done anyone.

But he can’t help feeling so fucking heartbroken. He feels like his lungs are being ripped from his chest. Like he’ll never breathe again. How would he ever get someone like Gerri again? There was no one like Gerri. No one would ever compare to her. He’ll never love anyone the way he loves Gerri. He thinks back to the Crown, thinks of how much he feels for Charles now. For being so fucking consumed by someone you can never have. Well he supposed Charles did get her in the end but thinking of how much he just wants her. How much Charles would just chase around after her as she just put up with him, eventually feeling something. He gets it. Why couldn’t he have just been her fucking age? Swap bodies with an older guy with lots of money so he could sweep Gerri off her feet and live happily ever after?

He needs to stop this, his pillow is almost soaked through, and he can feel himself falling into desperation harder and harder. He would just go to sleep, try and forget about it. He would handle it tomorrow.

****

He hears a pounding on his front door. He doesn’t know what time it is; his eyes are bleary. It feels like it should be morning, but when he looks at his phone it’s only 11.05pm. He must have been out for like an hour.

The pounding continues as he makes his way to the door, his eyes still closed as he unlocks it and opens it.

She is leaning against the doorframe, sighing with relief before she looks up, giving him the worst evil eye he has ever received, storming past him, her hair up in a bun, a floaty dress on under a coat. Very uncharacteristic of Gerri.

“You have some fucking nerve! You know that!” She shouts as she treads into his living room.

“What?” He asks confused, following her.

“You!” She shouts throwing her purse onto the sofa, and twisting to him, her jaw clenched. “Sending a fucking text like that and not even giving me the chance to respond before turning your phone off!”

“Sending a text like what?” He asks, waking the fuck up, throwing his hands in the air. “You told me to fucking text you when I was turning my phone off! To let you know when I wanted time to myself.”

“Yeah I fucking did. I also said the reason I wanted you to fucking do that was to I could make sure you were okay and didn’t do something stupid. Instead you left me sitting with a I can’t do this anymore text whilst my mind ran riot! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?! I didn’t know whether you meant us, or you know… something stupid!” She shouts again, throwing her hands around.

“Well, I meant us and I’ve clearly not done something fucking stupid so you can fuck off back to your witch’s cottage. You know where the door is,” he says rolling his eyes, and turning to leave the room.

“Are you fucking serious?” She shouts again as he turns back to look at her

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious. You did your duty as my boss, now fuck off,” he says turning again and beginning to walk out the room.

She pads towards him aggressively, grabbing his arm to turn him around which he does so.

“You’re a selfish little shit, do you know that? I’ve been worried fucking sick for an hour. I tried to be fucking rational and I fucking couldn’t. Had to get changed out of my pyjamas and come all the way over here.”

“Well, I’m sorry I ruined your bedtime routine,” he rolls his eyes again, folding his arms.

**He feels like he’s beginning to falter under her shouting. He’s never heard her like this before and he can’t deny he’s a little scared.**

“Fuck you! You’re a complete fucking asshole!” She shouts, her eyes glazed with tears.

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges.

“Yeah,” she scoffs.

“Well then, we should end all this here. Just call it quits. I wouldn’t want to burden you any longer,” he says throwing his arms around.

“What?” She breathes, her face falling.

“Yeah. I was thinking of it all night. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do the sneaking around anymore and you want to keep us a secret. I get it. You’re embarrassed by me. I would be embarrassed by me. But I can’t deal with you being hot and cold with me. I can’t deal with being the only one invested in this,” he tells her, his voice wavering.

“The only one invested in this?” She whispers. “Are you fucking crazy!?” She screams.

His eyes bulge, this is definitely a side of Gerri he’s never seen.

“I’ve risked everything for you. EVERYTHING. I have played by the rules my entire life. I have just been put into a position that I knew I could always do; a position I would never want to give up because I feel like I’m finally being seen, and I’m risking all of that to be with you. I’m risking my daughters finding out from a newspaper that might get a leak. I’m risking being the butt of a fucking joke. I’m risking my entire future just to lie in your bed and watch a fucking tv show! Just to spend an hour with you. Just to be around you when you make me laugh. I risk all of that! So, don’t you tell me I’m not fucking invested!”

Her chest is heaving, her fists clenched, and he doesn’t know how to answer that.

“Look Gerri,” he huffs, no longer willing to fight with her. “You’re going to be better off without me,” he smiles sadly, taking a step towards her, trying to be comforting.

“You really want to end this? That’s really what you want?” She asks, swiping away a tear.

“I think you’re going to be happier without me,” he begins but she cuts him off.

“No! I asked if this is what YOU want? If you want this to end. Don’t think about what I want for one second,” she fires at him.

“I love you,” he says simply. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. Never will love anyone like I love you. But I know that this secrecy is tearing me apart. I know that I’m struggling with the fact that I can’t be near you when I want you, when I need you. That I can’t just touch you whenever I want to. I know that I love you more than you’ll ever love me. I know that I’m more or less forcing you to spend time with me. I know that you never ask me in return because you don’t want to,” he smiles sadly, as he finally reaches her, touching her hand, her eyes squeezed shut, tears still spilling beyond them, the most emotional he’s ever seen her.

“You’re going to be so much happier without me,” he whispers, kissing the crown of her now bowed head. “You won’t need to risk anything. You deserve to be with someone who can give you everything you deserve. I can’t do that. I’m not allowed to. I don’t even know if I’d be capable if I was. Someone else is going to be able to give you everything and more,” he tells her softly, as his own tears begin to fall, as his heart breaks.

She looks up, seeing his watery eyes, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close.

“I don’t want anyone else. I want you,” she mumbles kissing his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he tells her as he tightens his arms around her, taking one last embrace before he knows he will need to let her go forever. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be that guy for you. But please know that I wanted to be.”

“No, Roman. No. It was me. I was pulling back. I was afraid,” she tries to explain, her mouth grazing his jaw.

“What?” He asks, pulling back and looking at her blotched face.

“It was me. I pulled away from you. The dream. It freaked me out,” she tells him, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

**The dream?**

“Then why didn’t you just fucking tell me that?!”

“I don’t know! It messed with my head. I started getting paranoid when I woke up the next morning. I saw Al on the way out when I went to get a cab. I started getting paranoid, worrying that he was getting paid off by your dad. I started ruminating about all the ways I could have got tripped up. Karl, Karolina, Ken, the board members, the CCTV, the bugs. All I could think of was how it was all going to come out. The betrayal of your dad and this with you. I kept thinking about how I didn’t want to lose my position, to just go back to being your dad’s underling and having to deal with his mood swings, or just fully lose my whole job if he found it. I can’t give up my work. It’s all I’ve had for such a long time. And I didn’t want to risk your dad finding out about us. I kept thinking of your bloodied face, your screams when he was hitting you. I couldn’t risk that happening. I got scared. I started staying away. Karolina noticed us from stupidly small things. I was afraid in case the wrong person seen the wrong looks, the wrong smile, heard the wrong joke. And what if your dad did find out and told you to drop me. You’d do it, Rome,” she rubs her nose against his, sadly.

“No, I fucking wouldn’t,” he says angrily, pulling back from her, his hands still on her waist.

“You would, Rome. You love your dad. He has a hold over you. He has influence. He’s a master manipulator. And I know he panics you. He panics us all,” she palms his face, trying to tell him it’s okay.

“I fucking wouldn’t, Gerri. I wouldn’t. Gerri, I have nothing to fucking lose. I am fucking nothing. All I have is you. Why would I willingly give that up if you wanted me? I would fuck all this now and fuck off to fucking Sicily, living the Connor life with you if that’s what I had to do. I would choose you over Waystar every day, any day. Like the fucking abdicated King and the American. Every fucking time,” he tells her seriously, grabbing her wrist as it strokes his face.

“Then why are you trying to end this? Why?” She breathes.

“I’m no good for you, Gerri. You don’t want me,” he drops his head solemnly.

“Why the fuck would I be here then?”

“I don’t know. Obligation?”

She pulls back, aghast. Anger taking over her face again, her hand clenching around his chin to force him to look her in the eye.

“I fucking love you, you absolute fucking pain in my ass! I need you to believe that! You think I want to live in secret? You think I wouldn’t rather be able to come over whenever the fuck I have had a shitty day and lie with your head in my lap whilst we watch the fucking news? You don’t think I would rather that?” She asks him, raising her eyebrows.

“I don’t know, Gerri. I can’t read you. I try but,” he shrugs.

“Well with what you’ve said tonight you’re going to need a fucking lesson on how to read me. Let me make this plain and fucking clear. I will write it down and blow it up so you can put it above your fireplace if that’s what you need,” she tells him firmly, as he smirks.

“I fucking love you. I want you. I don’t want to be with someone else who you seem to think could make me happy. You make me happy. Happier than anyone else has ever made me. I wish we could spend more time together so I could feel even more happy. I don’t want this to be a secret. I already spoke to Karolina about making this public. She seems to think people won’t care and I’m willing to take the flack that will likely come with it. People are fickle and will move on quickly. But we need to wait until this shit finishes with your dad. The EEOC hearing will be over next week and they will be quick to take him to trial. We just can’t go public before that. He will blow the whole thing up if we do. He will think you and I have a conspiracy against him to take the company. He will take both of us down with him. I’m talking disgusting press, giving evidence against the knowledge of all the illegal shit from over the years. I’m not saying he wouldn’t resort to that after he’s convicted, but it will seem less credible if he only brings it up after conviction. He won’t just go after me, Rome. He will go after you. Anything you’ve ever done wrong, anything you’ve ever suffered from, he will use against you in the press, ruin your reputation. I don’t want that for you, and I don’t want it for me.”

**He had never thought of it like that. Never even considered that would happen.**

“But, like, you want to go public at some point? This secret shit isn’t forever because you’re like embarrassed?” He asks pulling her closer, running his hands through her hair.

“No, Rome. It’s not forever. It’s always been my intention to go public at some point. I know it’s a big ask and if you can’t do it then fine. But please hold out a little longer. This isn’t something I’m planning on hiding away for the rest of our lives. I want to be able to be as carefree as everyone else gets to be, but we need to wait for the right time, or I will end up in jail and you will end up exiled somewhere and then we will never see each other.”

“Fuck, you’ve thought this through,” he smiles.

“Did you expect anything else?” She responds, rubbing her hand along his shoulder.

“I mean yeah. I just expected you weren’t into me,” he says pulling her in and burying his head in her neck.

“Never,” she whispers, closing her eyes. “Please don’t doubt that. Don’t doubt yourself, honey. You’re so special, do you know that?” She asks him soothingly, her soft lips grazing his ear, her hand running across his hair, as he smells her perfume, feeling her warm body against his. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. You’re such a brilliant person. Such an extraordinary and unique person that I’m so lucky to know. How lucky am I to be the one on the receiving end of you? I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He can feel himself getting choked up, tears coming, as she tells him exactly what he needed to hear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?” She asks pulling back, kissing his temple on the way. 

“For freaking out. For being an asshole. For doubting,” he spouts.

“Oh honey,” she pets her lips, rubbing his face. “We all do it. You don’t think I was doing the same last night when you said you were getting your dick wet,” she smiles, stroking her hand through her hair.

“I’m sorry for that. I forgot about Baird,” he offers.

“You don’t think I would have felt it anyway, just from you going to a club and being surrounded by pretty girls. Just because I don’t start jumping all over you with a million accusations, doesn’t mean I don’t get jealous,” she concentrates on her hand running through his hair.

“You don’t have anything to be jealous of. Nothing,” he breathes, kissing her forcefully as she responds eagerly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers when she pulls back. “I broke my own rule of being open and honest so we can talk about things. I should have told you the dream rattled me.”

“I thought it was the meeting with the EEOC,” he admits, rubbing her back.

“That? No,” she breathes. “Ran rings around them.”

“Course you did,” he smiles, kissing her briefly again.

They stand in the hallway, arms around each other, swaying for god knows how long, stealing kisses every now and then, not speaking until he breaks the silence.

“Gerri,” he whispers. “I just want you with me always.”

“You have me, Rome. I’m not going anywhere.”


	9. Scenes from the Inception of a New Division

“What activities are you going to do in Hawaii, Dana?” Roman asks before taking a huge bite into a sandwich.

He, Dana, and Gerri are on the private jet on the way to London, it’s only been an hour and he’s already bored.

**He doesn’t really know Dana, just knows she’s Cyd’s prodigy. He likes Cyd. She’s a sassy bitch and always jests with him so he can imagine Dana is going to be cool too. He thinks she’s maybe in her mid 40s? Though he’s not sure. He doesn’t know if she has a partner or kids? He doesn’t think she does? Maybe a boyfriend? He doesn’t fucking know. But he does know that people were going to make a big deal out of it because she’s African American. Gerri told him that people were going to assume that she was hired because of her race but truthfully it was just because she was the most competent for the position. She would probably end up in ATN again when Cyd eventually retired. But from the little he’s experienced of Dana; she seems like fun. She’s willing to joke around with him, and for that reason, they would get on just fine.**

“Ehm, I’m not sure. What’s on offer?” Dana asks, crossing her legs over as she sits back in the armchair facing Gerri, twisting onto her hip so she can face Roman.

He mumbles for a moment, chewing his food, holding a finger up to her, his head dancing from side to side as he tries to chew quicker. Gerri smirks, glancing up from her laptop to watch him, before shaking her head and picking up her phone.

“I sent out all the shit for it? Didn’t you look at it?” He finally mumbles flicking his wrist dramatically.

“I’m not going to lie, Roman,” Dana responds sassily, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “I found out 3 days ago I was going to be the head of a completely new division, now I’m on a plane to London to meet a whole new team, attend a charity ball, and then straight onto a corporate retreat in Hawaii. I was a little busy prepping and packing,” she laughs glancing at Gerri who giggles, looking up from her phone.

He mock laughs, looking at them both.

“I spent a lot of time sending that shit out. Well like an hour whilst I was in bed last night but still,” he smiles, taking another bite.

_Gerri knows this, she had been on the phone with him whilst he did it. Things had been much better since their discussion on Friday. She had agreed to try and abate her anxieties, though she had not conceded to continue risking everything by seeing him all the time. She had stayed that night though, had brunch with her brother the next day and went out to buy his birthday gift too. She thinks she’s done well, though she won’t find out until she returns. She wasn’t going to lug the whole thing over to fucking London and then Hawaii when he couldn’t even use it._

_He had come up with the idea of a new arrangement they could engage in. Watching television over the phone. It was ridiculous yet genius. The amount of times in the past few nights they had argued over whether the person had pressed play at the same time so that their televisions were in sync, forcing the other to pause for a few seconds so the other could catch up was exhausting. But it was a concession she was willing to make, to sit on the phone with him and get through the last few episodes of the Crown, starting up on the first two episodes of the new season. She had to admit she enjoyed it. His running commentary on all of the members of the royal family, of the events she clearly remembered from when they first happened that he didn’t. She thought it was sweet how he was so invested in the TV show, still rooting for Charles, revealing an odd affinity he seemed to have to him in their current situation especially. She couldn’t imagine watching it without him now. It was a pact they had agreed upon to not continue watching it without the other. Their thing. And she had to admit that the feeling that they had a thing made her warm inside._

_She could feel a difference in the past few days alone from being dragged into having some down time and honestly it has had a very relaxing and calming effect on her._

_And the laughter. She honestly doesn’t think she’s laughed this much on a consistent basis in her entire life._

_He had stayed on the phone with her as he went through the activities he was drawing up to send out to everyone, trying to encourage her to do water sports which she was absolutely not doing. She could be found at the spa, though she did have an interest in the scuba diving which made him pretty over excited. However, right now, she had to act as if she had no idea either._

“Well, why don’t you enlighten us?” Gerri asks him with a raised eyebrow.

He picks up her cue instantly, swallowing the food and feigning shock.

“You didn’t read it either!? I should have just sat with my hands down my pants last night instead of bothering for fuck sake. What kind of example is that to set as CEO Gerri?” He asks her with a mock pointed look.

“Some of us have work to do and lives we have to attend to, Roman,” she smiles, jesting with him as Dana laughs also.

“Oh yeah. Don’t think I don’t know the Crown came out yesterday Gerri. Bet you sat at home and creamed over it with a crumpet and a cup of tea pretending you were a distinguished dame,” he rolls his eyes before looking at Dana pulling a face.

“I don’t want to hear about your fantasies, Roman,” she challenges back.

“The Crown is actually really good,” Dana smiles, looking embarrassed at Roman.

“You fucking too?!” He asks, grabbing his phone to pull up the document he had sent out.

“See, not everyone is as uncultured as you,” Gerri jibes, taking a sip of her drink.

“Maybe I need to give this shit a go. The Queen right? Of England? With the old lady perm?” He offers distractedly, pulling the email up.

“Yes, Roman. Queen Elizabeth II,” Gerri responds flatly.

“Yeah, the cool one. Her sisters the hot one, right? Met her once,” he says absentmindedly scrolling through it.

“Princess Margaret?” Dana splutters, leaning forward in her seat, as Gerri shakes her head.

“What?” He asks confused. “Yeah. If that’s the sister. Was kind of friendly with my mom at one point. Think my mom was like her temporary evil bitchy whiz kid. Considering they were both so fucking brutal so makes sense. Anyway, she was over for some lunch with my mom and dad. She was by the pool at the manor, completely wasted, and said I was a ‘scrawny little thing’ in the most disgusted way. Was hot though,” he shrugs. “Okay. Here it is!”

Dana sits back in her chair mouthing a wow as she looks at Gerri who shrugs with a smile, turning her attention back to Roman.

“Oooooookay. So, there’s water sports which is where you’re going to find me. So, if you want to hang out with the non-losers, you’re going to want in. They have kayaking, surfing, windsurfing, parasailing, and paddle boarding. Eh?” He looks to them excitedly.

“I don’t think I would be very good at surfing, but I could do kayaking,” Dana shrugs, pursing her lips as she looks at Gerri.

“No, thank you,” Gerri responds firmly, taking another sip of her drink.

“Bore!” He shouts abruptly. “There is also deep-sea diving and scuba diving,” he trails as he continues scrolling.

“I wouldn’t mind scuba diving,” Gerri offers, biting the inside of her mouth.

“You in a fucking wet suit?” He laughs, the idea internally driving his thoughts wild. “Would your blow out survive?”

“Ha, fucking ha. I did scuba diving years ago in… where was it? I want to say Thailand? I can’t remember. But I really enjoyed it,” she justifies, aiming her attention towards Dana when he rolls his eyes.

“See, I’m up and down when it comes to the sea. Like a kayak or boat is fine, but the fishes and other things touching my legs, I can be a bit bleugh,” Dana laughs as Gerri twitters along.

“My husband was like that. Wouldn’t go near the sea. I love the sea though. Love the smell, the colours, the life in it. It fascinates me,” she smiles, looking over to Roman, who is staring at her, taking in all the information he can.

“Yeah, I went scuba diving and deep-sea diving in Australia. Saw a tiger shark. Almost shit myself,” he laughs, as they laugh alongside him.

“Bet you did,” Dana laughs, taking a sip of her drink.

“Well, if you don’t like the sea, there’s other shit. Ehm… golf, tennis, quad biking. Oh my god I can’t wait to go quad biking. I hope Frank does so I can _accidentally_ ram him,” he smiles as Gerri gives a raise of her eyebrows, Dana laughing along.

“Ehm, there’s yoga which sounds fucking horrible. A spa?” He continues.

“Ah! A spa! That’s where you’ll find me,” Gerri declares smiling.

“I have to admit the spa sounds good,” Dana reasons, smiling at Gerri.

“Yeah. I wonder if they have those girls who like jump up and down on your back and fucking wreck your whole body,” he asks them both excitedly.

“That might be a Thai massage,” Gerri offers with a wry smile.

“Well what about the one where they just beat you up?” He asks.

“Uhm… I think that’s Swedish,” Dana answers, looking to Gerri confused, who nods to affirm.

“Well what’s a Hawaiian massage?” He asks confused.

“I think they offer different types of massage no matter what the country, Rome,” Gerri laughs a little. “These places usually don’t offer a happy ending though. A little different to the ones you’re used to.”

“For the right price, any establishment will offer a happy ending,” he smiles, quirking his eyebrow at her.

“Please don’t,” Gerri sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I have enough to be getting on with without having to force a masseuse to sign an NDA.”

“Okay, but you might want to make that a universal announcement on day one to everyone else,” he snorts, looking back to his list.

“There better not be,” Gerri demands as Dana tries to hold back a laugh.

“Yeah so there’s that but we also have a pool at the villa where we can chill out. The villa also has a pool table and a gym. And Karaoke. Dibs doing the Grease melody with Gerri,” he smiles, raising eyebrows at her whilst Dana splutters laughing.

“I would rather die first,” Gerri responds flatly.

“Not a fan of Grease? We can do Lionel Ritchie and Diana Ross?”

“No.”

“Sonny and Cher?”

“Absolutely not.”

Dana continues laughing at their exchange as he gets more incessant.

“Mmm… more of a solo act, are you? I’m sure they will have ‘I Will Survive’, all karaoke does,” he shrugs looking down.

“I have never sung in public and I never will,” Gerri announces, as he thinks back to when he caught her doing just that in her bathroom on the yacht.

“Not even if I gave you a million dollars?” He offers with a pout.

“Not even if you offered me ten million dollars,” she smiles, fluttering her eyelashes.

“I’ll bet I will get you to eventually. Dana! You karaoke, right?”

“I’ve been known to,” Dana smiles, folding her hands in her lap.

“There you go. Do Sonny and Cher with Dana,” Gerri offers.

“I’ll do a duet with you,” Dana shrugs.

“Will hold you to that!” He points at her enthusiastically. “There’s also a place we can go to nearby where there is entertainment. Hula dancers. You gonna get in a hula skirt instead then, Gerri?” He smiles at her, relishing in the teasing.

Gerri huffs, shaking her head, not even offering an answer, as Dana looks to her interestedly.

“It’s hula dancing or karaoke?” He offers.

“Do you just incessantly annoy people until you get what you want? Is this your whole corporate strategy when you’re in negotiations. Just keep hounding them until they give up because they don’t want to listen to you anymore?” Gerri asks with a cheeky smile, running her tongue in between her teeth.

“No, it’s my charm. If I get Frank to, will you?” He asks her excitedly.

“The karaoke or the hula dancing?” She asks him.

“See, you’re considering at least one of them now. My charm is clearly working. You’re definitely gonna karaoke with me Kellman. I can feel it in my bones,” he smiles at Dana, raising his eyebrows as he sees the hint of a twitch of Gerri’s lips.

****

“JONATHAN!” Roman shouts as he opens the door of the Prince of Wales suite in the Ritz.

“Good morning, sir,” Jonathan smiles, closing his eyes slightly and sighs.

“Good to see you man. How’ve you been?” He asks the already exasperated looking butler.

“Very well, sir. Yourself?” The butler returns kindly.

“Very well, Jonathan. Very well indeed,” Roman imitates him, opening the door to invite him in.

“Gerri! It’s Jonathan!” Roman shouts entering the living area as Jonathan follows him in.

Gerri looks up from her phone, standing by the fireplace, giving him a smile.

“Hey Jonathan. How are you?”

“Very well, ma’am. Yourself?” Jonathan asks kindly, noting the third person in the room who he hasn’t met.

“I’m good thanks. Dana, this is Jonathan, the personal butler,” Gerri smiles. “He has had the pleasure of both our company before.”

“We had a great time. Didn’t we bud?” Roman interrupts slapping Jonathan on the arm as he walks past him to settle on the sofa next to Dana.

“Nice to meet you, Jonathan,” Dana offers kindly.

“A pleasure, ma’am,” he smiles. “Is it yourself who will be in the Arlington suite?”

“Ehm… yeah. I offered to bunk in one of these rooms, but they insisted I have my own space since it’s my first trip to England,” she smiles excitedly.

“And you’ve settled in ma’am?” Jonathan asks her kindly.

“Yeah. Got a big living room to myself and everything,” she smiles.

_She feels she needs to move this conversation on. She had already had a hard time convincing Dana to have the Arlington suite so that she and Roman could have adjoining bedroom doors. She had played up it being Dana’s first visit to England and insisted on how she should have the full experience with her own suite and privacy. She had played up how she and Roman had done these 100 times, so it was nothing new for them. But she doesn’t need this coming back up._

“Jonathan, can we order breakfast please? We’ve had a long overnight flight,” Gerri smiles interrupting their flow.

“Yeah, I’m fricking starving,” Roman smiles as Jonathan walks to the drawer and pulls out the menus.

“Do you wish to eat in the dining room, ma’am?” Jonathan asks handing each of them a menu.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Gerri says opening the menu.

“I still can’t believe there’s a dining room in one of these,” Dana shakes her head in awe, looking at the menu.

“Wait until you see it properly. It’s so fucking ugly,” Roman tells her as he chews his lips.

“Still don’t have pancakes?” He asks Jonathan, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir,” Jonathan responds flatly.

It’s not long before they are all settled around the dining room table, tucking into their respective breakfast meals.

_They were going into Ace Airlines headquarters today to review the business now it was in their hands and introduce Dana as the head. She was worried about Dana. There was no denying that she had flung the poor woman into it. However, she’s confident Dana is going to succeed. She had her fully briefed yesterday and had spent a part of the plane journey trying to go over it again with her. She had assured her that today was a fact-finding mission which would be led by Gerri, with tomorrow allowing Dana the ability to take the lead if she wished to, allowing her more time to review the information before the charity ball tomorrow night._

_She was committed to not be a leader like Logan was. Making unreasonable requests of her employees with an illogical timeframe, setting everyone up to fail. Dana needed adequate time to get used to a completely new division that Gerri herself was going to have to learn, and she was sure to let Dana know that she expected a grace period of Dana learning before any innovation and improvement was expected from her._

“How do you feel about today?” Gerri asks Dana gently.

“Fine,” Dana smiles awkwardly, cutting into her egg.

Gerri looks to Roman who merely raises his eyebrows whilst he continues chewing.

“Dana. I have every faith in you. That’s why I chose you. I genuinely don’t expect anything from you other to listen and begin to learn their inner workings and the industry. We can review it as you go along. This is a learning experience for all of us,” she explains, placing down her fork.

“Yeah, I know fuck all about planes and the airline industry,” Roman interjects, shrugging.

“You’re obviously going to feel a lot of pressure. But one thing I do expect from you is honesty. I would rather you were honest about any concerns you had, any plausible options to innovate. We are here to support you in making this an even greater industry than it already is. But we are all on a learning curve. You don’t need to walk in there today pretending you know anything. I’m definitely not. The whole point of us going there is to learn and make connections. But you can be honest,” Gerri smiles kindly.

“I suppose I am a little nervous. I’m never usually. When I know what I’m doing I dominate but… It’s just such a big leap into something that I don’t know anything about when I’m supposed to be in charge,” she bites the inside of her mouth.

“I understand that. It was a really quick adjustment. But you have great analytical skills. Cyd’s done nothing but praise you. Remember, I’m not asking you to know how to fly a plane,” Gerri laughs. “Leave that up to the pilots. We just need to get you to have an understanding of how it runs as a business and that’s going to take time. They all have heads of departments there, who are going to meet with us to tell us how they work. It’s your job to analyse that, make sure they are doing their jobs, and then capitalise on the ideas you have from the analytics.”

“She’ll be fine!” Roman declares, picking up his cup of coffee. “You’re good. If you feel nervous, give me a nod and I’ll take the heat off you. Trust me. We’ve met the head dudes there right now. It’s a pompous old English dude, a Frank, and two Toms. You have nothing to worry about. You’re the head bitch in charge. You’ve got it in the bag,” he smiles.

Dana sighs, lifting her napkin to her mouth and dapping.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Just fact finding. I can fact find,” Dana smiles genuinely this time.

“Absolutely,” Roman agrees enthusiastically as Gerri nods encouragingly.

Dana nods, attempting to syke herself up.

“Can you excuse me? I’m just going to go freshen up before we leave,” Dana smiles, pushing her chair out.

“Yeah! Take your time. Our meeting isn’t for a while,” Gerri smiles, as Dana gets up from the table.

They watch her leave, waiting for the slamming of the door.

“Sheeeet. She looks nervous,” Roman grimaces, his fork piercing his food.

“She’ll be fine. She has all the skills. It’s just because it’s learning a new industry. We would be the same if we went into like a food industry and were told to do the exact same thing. There is a huge amount of learning. It’s just a shock. She hasn’t had the ability to process it yet. I’m going to need you to support her though,” she tells him, sipping her coffee.

“Yeah. Of course. That’s the point of COO isn’t it. I’m sure when she sees how much we don’t know anything about airlines either, she’ll be fine. When she sees us writing shit down we don’t get and asking questions she’ll be cool. Maybe we should suggest to her to come out here for a month or two? Get her an assistant to bring over? I mean I don’t know if she has family, but staying here and learning exactly how it works would be helpful,” he suggests, shrugging.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. It would make her feel much better. She has a husband but he’s in the army. I think he’s relatively high up so he’s away long periods of time,” she reveals, sitting back in her chair.

“Well that might work then. Will ask her when she’s back,” he chomps on a piece of toast.

She smiles, picking up the napkin and dapping her own mouth.

“How you doin’ over there Jonathan?” Roman smirks, quirking an eyebrow, looking up to the butler.

“Very well, sir,” Jonathan sighs as Gerri looks over her shoulder to acknowledge him.

“Leave him alone,” Gerri diverts back to Roman with a small smile.

“What? What did I do? Just acknowledging the silent human in the room!” He offers defensively, raising his hands in surrender. “Is it sore standing there for so many hours? Like do your joints get sore?” He nods towards Jonathan sympathetically. “You want to have a seat?”

Gerri sighs, shaking her head as she raises her cup to her lips.

“No thank you sir,” Jonathan responds flatly.

“Come on! We won’t tell anyone! Take a load off!” Roman smiles, pulling out the chair next to him, patting the cushion of seating.

“I’m quite all right sir,” Jonathan responds, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“Oh, come on! How about leaning on the back of a chair then?” Roman raises his eyebrows.

Gerri hears Jonathan sigh.

“How about you go and take a break Jonathan and we’ll call you when we’re finished?” Gerri offers kindly, looking back over her shoulder to the butler.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Jonathan responds, leaving the room instantly.

Roman blows a raspberry as he walks out, shaking his head at Gerri.

“Spoil sport,” he says rolling his eyes, as she smirks.

****

The day had passed quickly, being much more informative than what she had thought she would have got out of it. It seemed that the department heads had been much more competent than the ones they had sent to New York.

They had spent most of the times allowing each person to give a run-down of their departments in every aspect. It seemed Graeme had already prepared for the possibility that they didn’t know much about aviation, covering a lot of information and answering a lot of questions about the regulations, logistics, and legality of it. Dana had happily agreed to move to London for a month pending a review at the end of it for longer, working with Graeme to learn the industry.

Gerri senses however that Harold was not so keen on the idea. She got the sense that he was acting a bit pompous, assuming they were stupid because they were Americans. She didn’t like his attitude and she didn’t trust him. Judging from the break, Roman and Dana were receiving the same vibe. She was trying to figure out if there was a possibility of replacing him; feeling out whether he was interested in early retirement. She senses that Graeme was potentially the source from which she could find that out.

Roman had been shockingly attentive throughout the meeting. It seemed that the airline industry was actually something that had intrigued him. He had had the most questions about it all; not shy in asking the stupid questions that both Dana and Gerri also wanted an answer to.

Dana had been confident also. Happy to introduce herself to everyone, an open book declaring her enthusiasm in getting to know everyone. She had been diligent in her notetaking, inquisitive in her questioning, and competent in her delivery to the team of her intentions. Gerri was confident that she had made the right choice in Dana and a month here learning would be exactly what would be the making of her.

When they get back to the suite that evening, Gerri and Dana opting to rest on the sofas of the living area whilst Roman pours them all drinks.

“So, where to for dinner?” Gerri asks sighing as she removes her suit jacket.

“Ehm… like me think,” Roman thinks, walking across the room to pass them both their drink.

“Uh, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to give it a miss guys,” Dana offers nervously.

“What?! Why?” Roman grimaces, walking back over to pick up his own drink.

“I’m tired from today and we have another long one tomorrow before the ball tomorrow night. The jet lag still has me too so I want to spend the night chilling out and going through the notes I took today so I can try and take it all in,” she nods before taking a swig of her drink.

Gerri swallows her mouth full, sighing as she looks at Dana.

“You need to stop putting so much pressure on yourself. No one is expecting you to remember all the information they fired at us today,” she looks at Dana softly.

“No, I know,” she tells them both, as Roman sits on the armchair near Gerri’s side of the sofa. “But I would feel more confident if I at least took some of it in before trying to take even more in tomorrow and then trying to network tomorrow night. And I can eat here in the big living room I’ve never used,” she laughs nervously. “It’s nothing against both of you.”

“Well, I for one, am offended,” Roman announces, smiling against his crystal tumbler.

“Shut up,” Gerri fires at him laughing. “If that’s what makes you comfortable,” she directs to Dana, “then you do what you need to do.”

“Yeah, thanks for leaving me alone to eat with the stone-cold killer bitch,” Roman quips, curling his lip.

“Feel free to eat alone. I’m happy to go out and have a meal solo,” Gerri fires back.

“I will happily stay here and eat with Jonathan. Maybe he will light a candle, bring me flowers. Could be romantic. I could convince him to eat spaghetti with me like in Lady and the Tramp,” he jokes, feigning seriousness again.

“You can’t even get him to sit on a chair,” she fires back with a smile as Dana laughs behind her.

“Maybe that’s because you were there. Maybe he’s just waiting for the moment you leave so he can seduce me,” he pouts, quirking his eyebrows before taking another swig.

Dana finishes her drink and places it on the coffee table.

“Well, I will leave you both to sort it between you. I’m beat. Ready to spend a night in my pyjamas,” Dana smiles as she stands up.

“Well just send me a message if you need anything,” Gerri offers. “Don’t forget to call the butler if you need anything.”

“His name is Jonathan and he’s the love of my life,” Roman defends, huffing.

Gerri looks at him scoffing before turning back to Dana. “You just dial one on the phone in the room if you need Jonathan,” she smiles as Dana giggles walking towards the door.

“I will. See you guys in the morning. Send me a message later about when we should meet up for breakfast,” she shouts as she walks down the corridor.

“Will do,” Gerri shouts, before she hears the door shutting a few seconds later.

“So,” she turns around to him, quirking an eyebrow. “What you want to do then?”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I have a date with Jonathan,” he jokes, reaching out his leg lazily and kicking at her foot. 

“Well I hope he puts out,” she smiles, leaning back against the pillows.

“Not on the first date, Gerri! He’s a gentleman!” He protests, running his foot up her calf.

“Mm, looks like I’ll be out all on my own then. Where should I go?”

“What kind of place are you looking for?”

“Mm, don’t know. I could go somewhere very chic and let a billionaire wine and dine me,” she chews her lip, looking up to the ceiling.

“You could,” he reasons, unsure if she’s talking about him.

“But I don’t really feel like dressing up. Feel like I want to just wear jeans and a sweater, so wherever I can go to that I could get into dressed like that,” she determines, looking around to him smiling.

“Well… let me think. There are a lot of choices,” he scratches his stubble. “McDonalds?”

“Yeah right!” She laughs. “You know London pretty well, don’t you?” She asks, leaning forward and putting her glass on the coffee table.

“Yeah. Spent most of my youth here. When I was like late teens, I used to come here in summer. Me and my friends used to come to the city and just ride around on the underground and go everywhere. Drink in the streets. Explore. Spray paint and shit. Used to love it, was always an adventure,” he smiles, looking at her, reaching his hand out for her to take it.

She does so, smiling, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb.

_She considers what he had told her the few days before about how he always is the one to chase her, suggest spending time together, and how she never did. She thinks about how they were going to be relatively anonymous in London and this could be the only opportunity they had to do anything together alone for a long while. She wants to give him this and truly wants it herself. He was always interested in following her lead with suggestions of restaurants, television, drinks, work. It was time she followed his lead for once._

“Then why don’t we do that,” she suggests, looking at their joined hands.

“What?” He frowns, looking at her confused.

“Go on an adventure. Take me wherever you want. Show me your London for a night. We can grab some food somewhere on the way,” she smiles as she watches his face lighten up.

“Really? It wouldn’t be like upper class shit but. And we would be out in public,” he reminds her.

“Yeah. I used to live on the edge a little before I started making money you know. I wasn’t eating caviar since I was a child. I have been known to explore a little. And yes, I’m aware we would be seen. Just need to be careful, think how we are perceived,” she smiles.

“To be honest, I think if we dress the right way, no one will even recognise us. No one ever recognises me when I dress down. I fucking love it,” he determines.

“You think?”

“Yeah. Come on,” he says, jumping up and pulling her up with him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“I’m capable of dressing myself,” she laughs as he pulls her down the hall.

“Not for being incognito,” he says entering her bedroom, whilst she shakes her head behind him.

“Okay, get out some possibilities. I’m gonna go change into my shit. Don’t choose until I get back. Make sure you choose comfortable footwear to walk in. No stupid fucking heels or some shit,” he points to her as he walks through the door connecting their rooms.

“What about my jeans? Can I put them on?”

“Yeah!” He shouts. “Jeans are fine!”

He returns five minutes later dressed in jeans, a sweater, a worn wax jacket, a scarf, and a baseball cap, looking at the clothing placed out on her bed.

She whistles, smiling at him as she stands in her work blouse, black jeans, black leather riding boots over them.

“You like it?” He smiles, turning in a circle. “It’s my incognito management training programme look. Spring line out next year.”

“Hardly even recognised you,” she quips, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he claps his hands. “What have we got here?” He asks picking up different things on the bed, picking up a cream cable-knit roll-neck sweater. He walks over to her, holding it up against her, seeing how it reaches top of her thighs.

“Whack that on,” he says, as she huffs, smiling and throwing it over her head, fiddling with the hem whilst he looks at her, moving his head from side to side, analysing the outfit.

“You look hot,” he smiles flirtatiously.

“Roman,” she warns, putting her hand on her hips, looking up to him.

“Lose the glasses. Put in your contacts,” he purses his lips as she follows his direction, moving instantly into her bathroom to do so.

_This isn’t her party. It’s his and she’s happy to play along._

When she comes out, glasses ditched, she holds her hands up, waiting for his approval.

“Better,” he nods. “Put on your black coat.”

“But I like my camel one. It would go better,” she argues.

“But we’re trying to blend here, Gerri. You need to not stand out,” he explains, grabbing the coat and holding it up for her.

When she has it on, she looks over to him again, raising her eyebrows.

“You got like a woollen scarf or something?” He asks.

“I’m already getting a hot flash, Rome,” she smiles, laughing exasperated.

“You won’t when we’re out there,” he challenges.

She rolls her lips inward and moves to her drawer, pulling out a black cashmere scarf.

“This okay?” She asks, putting it around her neck.

“Perfect.”

“We good?” she asks, holding her hands up finally.

He puffs his cheeks, holding the breath in, looking at her appraisingly, and slowly exhaling.

“Wait a second,” he holds his hands up before running into his room.

“Rome,” she shouts after him as she looks around to her mirror, hearing his footsteps as he runs back, holding a hat.

“Here,” he offers, holding the cream beanie up.

“Really? It’s going to mess my hair up,” she protests.

“Gerri, for once, do as you’re told,” he orders, moving his hands up, to place the beanie on her head.

“Aww, you look cute,” he smiles, pecking her lips.

“I don’t wear beanies,” she protests but pecks back before looking around to the mirror and smiling.

_She does look cute. She doesn’t look like her. She notes his reflection behind her._

He places his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist, and smiling also _._

“I like it,” she smiles at him in the reflection. “I should touch up my makeup though,” she says pulling away from his arms before he tightens his hold, stopping her.

“No, you look perfect. Knew you would like the hat,” he grins, kissing her cheek before pulling away. “I’ve got my wallet, so you don’t need to bring a purse or anything.”

“I’ll bring my card wallet just in case,” she determines, putting her phone in her pocket before rifling through her purse for her own wallet.

“Ready?” He asks when she looks up at him smiling.

“Yeah,” she answers, heading to the door, before he stops her.

He has a huge grin, a twinkle in his eyes as he leans in giving her a deep kiss, an instant, enthusiastic response from her provided as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“What was that for?” she asks with a smile when she pulls back breathless.

“Because you’re you and you look so damn cute,” he smiles.

“You look pretty cute yourself,” she pecks back before pulling away and heading to the door again, holding his hand.

She leads the way out of the front door, letting go of his hand to fix the way the hat is sitting on her head whilst he follows.

“I don’t have a room key. Have you got yours?” She asks when he’s moving through the door, slamming it behind him.

He gasps loudly, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open as he looks back at her.

She sighs, closing her eyes, exasperated at the trouble they are going to have to go through now to get back in.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” he smiles telling her, fluttering his eyelashes, tapping his inside pocket.

“You ass,” she laughs, punching his arm, as he fake winces, walking towards the elevator to press the call button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god these chapters just keep snowballing into something more and more than what I originally plan. This has ended up like a filler because I apparently don't understand word limitation. Next chapter won't be too far behind hopefully.


	10. Scenes from Roman's London - Part 1

She’s glad he’s forced her to wear the cashmere scarf now because the bitter air hits her cheeks as soon as they hit the sidewalk. She follows his lead, as he halts outside the doorway to the Ritz, looking down both ends of the street from left to right, whilst she watches him, waiting for an instruction. However, when he doesn’t speak, she steps in.

“So, uhm, what’s the plan?” She asks, bending her knees and standing straight again, hoping it helps the adjustment to the freezing cold temperature.

“Well, the underground obviously,” he scoffs, pointing to the huge Green Park Underground sign directly across the street, “but I think we should go to Marks and Spencer first,” he determines, pointing to the side and beginning to step towards the crosswalk as she follows.

“Marks and Spencer?” She asks confused, her hands still stiffly in her pockets as he presses the button for the cross walk where a few other people have collected waiting for the green walk sign.

“Yeah. Usually a clothes shop, but this one,” he gestures with his head, “is just food. Pretentious food. Probably were you would get your groceries if you lived here,” he tells her smirking.

She closes her eyes briefly, with a small smile, as the little man turns green.

She has no idea why they have come in here, but she soon finds out when they go to the alcohol section as he makes small noises looking at the copious amounts of spirits on the shelf.

“Don’t they have like smaller bottles here?” He murmurs as he seems to spot something on the bottom shelf.

“You want to buy alcohol?” She asks confused, looking through the bottles.

“Hey,” he looks up to her from his crouched position. “You wanted the Roman Roy experience. What’s exploring London without a bottle of whiskey with you?”

“Oh well excuse the fuck out of me,” she rolls her eyes, straining to read the label on a bottle on the top shelf.

He stands up, holding a four pack of different flavours of little bottles of whiskey that she would expect in a shitty hotel though it looks like it’s supposed to be some kind of gift set.

“Well, looks like we are also getting the Connoisseur whiskey tasting experience this evening,” he smiles, turning the box to her, showing that exact writing on the front. “Kenmore. Inverglen. Glencoyne. Oh, 10 years. Yeah, this’ll do,” he determines, walking up to the payment counter as she sighs following him.

“You want anything?” He asks as he stands in the queue.

“Ehm, I think I will get a bottle of water,” she says biting her lip as she walks over to the huge fridge and picks the most expensive looking one, passing it back to him.

“Not want anything to eat, no?”

“No. I’m okay for now,” she smiles, standing back next to him and watching the people around her.

_It’s odd to think that she’s never really been in a grocery store in London with the amount of times she’s been here over the years. She’s supposes barely been in one in New York. She looks around, watching the people. Looking at the stacks of items in the queue line. Taking in the different flavour of chips they even have here. So similar to home, yet so different in so many ways. It’s what she’s always thought of the UK._

She watches as he throws the stuff down, picking up a pack of gum and throwing it on top, pulling out his wallet, seeing him take out an English note with Queen Elizabeth and ten on it. 

“I’ll pay credit,” he offers, pulling his card out and swiping it, noting how the young cashier looks confused.

“Thanks,” he offers, leading the way out of the store and cowering into a corner as she joins him.

“Why didn’t you use the English ten pounds?” She asks confused.

“Because it’s my lucky tenner,” he says obviously. “And it’s actually Scottish. Got it in Dundee. Here,” he says, handing her the bottle of water as he continues to cradle the items, putting the gum in his pocket as he starts ripping the bottles of whiskey out of their cardboard container. He puts the first one in his left pocket, the second in his right, passing the third over to her.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” She asks, looking at it incredulously.

“Put it in your pocket,” he sniggers. “Don’t worry. We’re going to share them. Just don’t want to carry this shit around,” gesturing to the big cardboard thing as he pulls out the last bottle.

“Isn’t this illegal? To drink on the streets?” She asks him, thinking of the shitty publicity they could get if they were recognised that she doesn’t want to have to deal with.

“Nah,” he says, throwing the cardboard in the trash next to them, opening the final bottle and taking a swig before offering her the open bottle which she takes, gesturing for him to hold the bottle of water which he places in his inner pocket uncomfortably. “One of the best things about this place. Just can’t drink it on the underground.”

She takes a small sip, feeling the burn moving down her throat and warming her stomach, before he passes her the cap with a smile which she puts on and puts in her other pocket.

“Ready for a wild adventure?” He asks smiling.

“As I’ll ever be,” she smiles back, as he turns towards the underground, whilst she follows closely next to him.

They move down a flight of stairs to the huge ticket office, the large area thrumming with people.

_She can’t remember the last time she’s been in a subway station. This one looks relatively clean though she can’t really tell over the huge crowds of people here. She remembers the one in New York in the 80s being relatively sketchy and unclean. This one isn’t so bad though._

“Hey my man. Can I have two Oyster cards please? With twenty pounds on each one?” He asks confidently as she strains to listen in over the whir of people around them.

She doesn’t hear the attendant’s response, as the older bald man who is yet to crack a smile processes what the fuck he just asked for.

“Thanks,” Roman says picking up the cards, before turning towards her, noting the deer in the headlights look on her face. He smiles and takes her elbow, pulling her over to a quieter corner.

“Have you been on the Underground before?”

“I’ve been on the subway in New York. Not since the 80s though,” she offers, biting her lip.

“Okey, well it’s the same thing just a different name. It’s not always this busy but it’s rush hour, meaning everyone is going to be super aggressive and extra quick, so don’t be surprised if some shitty guy barges past you on the escalator or if the trains themselves are super busy.”

“That part I remember,” she rolls her eyes, listening.

“This is your Oyster card,” he offers one of the cards to her. “It’s how you get in. All you do is swipe it on top of one of the yellow circles on the barriers and the doors will open themselves,” he tells her, turning her around and standing slightly behind her, his lips close to her ear, his hand pressing into the back of her waist where no one can see.

**He wants to take the chance to show more affection, but he supposes he should ease her into it. She’s probably not going to be too comfortable with this change at first. One step at a time. Let’s get her on a train first.**

She watches as several people at the barriers swipe cards onto the yellow circles and whir haughtily through the huge foyer towards the escalator, barging by people.

“Okay,” she whispers, concentrating diligently on the process.

He smiles, holding in his laughter a little behind her.

“I’ll let you go first and be right behind you to make sure you get through. So, just wait for me on the other side. You want to go to Victoria or Piccadilly?” He asks her, pointing towards the one on the left, reading Piccadilly and then to the one on the right reading Victoria.

She looks between the two unsure which to choose.

“Don’t you have a plan for where we’re going?” She asks, looking over her shoulder.

He smirks widely, the temptation to kiss her overwhelming after taking in her cute confused expression.

“No. A London adventure is about going with the flow. Seeing where the flow takes you,” he smiles, winking because he can’t risk kissing her right now.

“Okay,” she breathes, looking back to the signs. “Piccadilly,” she determines, the only reason being that the flow of people seems easier than fighting through a mass of people to get to the Victoria entrance.

“Great. So, you wait for me on the other side of the barrier, and when we get to the escalator, you stay right. Left is the fast lane for people who want to rush. We’ll take this slow,” he breathes into her ear, tightening his grip on her waist.

“Okay,” she says as he moves next her, pressing a hand on her lower back, encouraging her to walk with him, as his shoulder presses against her shoulder blade, his hands resting on her upper arms as they join the crowd, pushing against the mass of people who are waiting for their turn to get through the five barriers open.

Eventually comes her turn to move through, she has been watching the several people in front and around her do it, though she doesn’t know why she’s so nervous.

_It’s not like she’s an imbecile, she can get through a barrier for god’s sake._

She places her card on the yellow circle, excited when the green ticket comes up, the grey plastic barriers opening allowing her access.

She hears him shouting behind her as she walks through it, “woo! Look at you! Got it in one!”

She smiles embarrassed, looking back around to him, noting his teasing smile as he hits his card on the yellow circle, nothing happening to the barriers. His expression changes to a frown as he tries again, the barriers granting access finally.

She notes the relief in his face, his lungs emptying, a small smirk as he meets her.

“Afraid you weren’t getting to come on the adventure?” She smirks. “Don’t worry I would have told you all about it when I got back,” she smiles, turning towards the entrance they had agreed to head towards.

“There is no adventure without me,” he whispers in her ear, his lips brushing her ear and woollen hat making her shiver, earning him a flirtatious smile over her shoulder.

His hands are back on her upper arms as he presses up close behind her whilst they manoeuvre the bottleneck to get onto the escalator, he shouldering a dickish looking guy back who tries to get between himself and Gerri when she’s about to step onto the escalator.

“Asshole,” he says under his breath as they look down the huge escalator.

“I didn’t realise it was so deep,” she says over her shoulder after looking down what seems like a mile of escalator.

“That’s what he said,” he whispers next to her ear again, his nails grazing against the fabric of her coat on her upper arm as he looks at all of the posters, mainly of west end shows on the wall. Mentally trying to remember them to see if they would be viable for his online platform.

When they reach the bottom of the escalator, she steps off, quickly making her way to the wall facing them, hoping he follows and gives some kind of direction as people rush towards the left and right to the different directions the train will travel. She turns around quickly and he is right behind her, straining to see the stations on both boards on either side of them to see which direction they should go in.

He’s pressed up against her chest, as she’s forced to grab his elbow with people brushing past her quickly, his hand settled on her upper arm still.

“Ehm. Let’s go this way,” he determines, pointing his head towards her left. She looks around, continuously trying to join what seems like a conga line of people quickening their pace as a screeching starts to pierce her ears, the hot air pushing through the platform.

He sighs frustrated at the people who keep on bumping into her when she tries to merge, eventually moving around her so he can take the lead.

“Follow me,” he says as she grabs the back of his arm, attempting to merge with him whilst he pushes his way in.

“Roman,” she shouts panicked as she feels she’s potentially left behind, a large guy pushing between them.

He looks back, seeing her being pushed back, causing him to dig his heels into the ground as people batter into him, her hand reaching out and running down his arm before grabbing his hand firmly as he pulls her towards him, guiding her away from the train which people are now flocking onto and down the platform, stopping against the wall of the platform as people try to squeeze onto the already overloaded train, her hand still firmly in his.

“You okay?” He asks, looking at her piercing blue eyes, small strands of her golden hair curling around the cream wool of his hat.

“Yeah. Was afraid you thought I was still behind you and jumped on a train whilst I was left behind at the station,” she laughs, looking around to the crammed train doors closing, a guys backpack almost getting caught in the doors.

“It’s not always this bad. It’s just because it’s rush hour,” he explains. “We can get the next one. You just need to know where to stand,” he tells her as he analyses where the doors all were, as she watches the frown on his forehead.

“Okay, come on,” he says tugging her hand and pulling her to stand near the platform edge, waiting for the next train to come. He looks up to the digital announcement board seeing it reading one minute until the next train arrives.

“How’s the adventure shaping up so far?” He asks with a smirk, facing her, pushing closer to her as more people fill the platform.

“Nearly ditched you so not so bad,” she smiles, rubbing her thumb across the back of the hand she’s still clutching.

He’s about to take a chance to lean in and brush his lips against hers, when the train screeching begins again as he looks up to the board with _Approaching_ flashing now.

“Okey, just let the fucknuggets get off and follow me. Don’t let go of my hand,” he instructs. She smiles, never having seen this intuitive, leader side of Roman, especially never having it directed towards her.

She follows his lead when he steps up onto the train tugging her hand after a sea of people pour out of the doors. She feels the rush of him pulling her towards him swiftly, manoeuvring her into a corner by the opposite door, hanging onto a pole and using his body as a barrier between her and everyone else behind him. She sees him straining to look throughout the carriage over her head, standing on his tiptoes to see above everything.

“What are you doing?” She asks him as the people thrumming in force him to press tighter against her whilst she moves her sweater sleeve up over her hand, grabbing the pole herself, holding on tightly.

 _She wishes she brought antibacterial gel. Fuck knows how many people had touched that today._ _This would have to do for now._

“Looking to get you a seat,” he divulges, still concentrating.

“I’m fine here,” she smiles, moving her other hand next to the door up and under his jacket to trail along his waist to his back.

He smiles at her touch, looking back down to her, seeing the glint in her eyes.

“Worried about infection?” He asks gesturing to her hand.

“You don’t know who’s touched that,” she whispers, moving closer to his ear so no one hears. He moves his unused hand to settle on her hip on top of her coat.

“You worried about getting infected by me?” He whispers, moving closer to her as the train jerks moving.

“I think I’ve already been contaminated,” she whispers back, pecking his lips before pulling back shyly, looking around her to see if people had been looking, noting that no one seemed to give a shit, before looking back up to his eyes.

“That’s the first time we’ve kissed in public,” he smiles. “Wish I knew where the fuck we were so I could mark it as the best fucking place on earth. Same with the yacht. First kiss and time,” he raises his eyebrows as she mirrors his expression. “In the middle of the ocean. How the fuck can it ever be revisited?” He whispers moving his mouth closer to her ear, brushing his lips against her cheek as she looks over his shoulder, his touch distracting her from spying on any people spying on them.

“Suppose we will just need to keep on trying in the tunnels and ocean so at one point it would be the exact location,” she breathes quietly as his stubble scratches her cheek, her nails scratching his back, his grip on her hip tightening.

“Gerri,” he breathes but the gust tickles at her neck, sending a shiver down her spine, causing her to wince and giggle as she pushes him back a little, smiling at him.

He tries to balance as the train stops and more people pour in than pour out, causing him to literally feel squashed now, his thighs more or less merging with hers as he feels breathless when the train starts back.

“Maybe we should get off at the next stop?” He determines, whilst she nods, looking at the different kinds of people around them.

When they get to the next stop, they are lucky when it is the door she’s pressed against that opens this time. He gets off first, taking hold of her hand and waiting until she steps out, leading the way as he starts making his way towards the exit. **Still unsure where the fuck they are going.**

They’re at Leicester Square and whilst that is a usual attraction, there isn’t a whole lot there that interests him or her, he can imagine. They’re not going to the theatre and they have a Chinatown at home, so he heads towards the other line, clutching her behind him who follows him willingly. They move up the escalator towards the Northern Line; he quite content to have her standing in front of him again, because this time he can press his hands to her thigh, holding her in front of him.

They are getting into a rhythm as she steps to the side when they get off and he takes her hand immediately; taking the lead again as he heads towards the Northern Line entrance, walking through tiled corridors with the rest of the passengers, as he makes a quick decision of what direction to go in.

 **Going south has fuck all. Charing Cross and Waterloo. Who gives a fuck about that?** However, he spots the perfect place going North as he leads her towards that platform, following the same process of standing against the wall to allow all the people who want to risk throwing themselves into a crowd on the train to do just that, whilst he analyses the best place to stand and wait when they are all gone.

“Where are we going?” She asks when she’s balancing in the middle of the standing area on the train holding onto a pole as he holds her hand, his other reaching for a pole on the ceiling whilst the train flies through the tunnel.

“Camden,” he answers, wondering if she even knows where that is.

She hums, looking over to an older woman who sitting next to what looks like the woman’s daughter, speaking in what she thinks is Italian. She watches as the older woman, gestures with her hands, moving them around whilst she tells what looks like an elaborate, dramatic story.

_She wishes she had learned a language. She had picked up little words in French, Japanese, and Spanish. You tend to pick up little bits and pieces when you are forced to the same places around the world. But Italian was the one place she had always wanted to explore. The one place she had never really gotten the chance to. Business had not often taken her there and when it had, it had been a quick turnover. But Italy was supposed to be beautiful and it had been from the little she had seen from a car window. Rome was the place she had most wanted to explore, from when she was a young adult; but she had never found the time. How beautiful the language sounded though; she thinks as she listens to it._

“Have you ever been to Rome?” She asks him, searching his face. 

“You mean ye old name sake?”

She nods in response.

“Ehm… I think I was taken when I was a kid. My attention span wasn’t exactly great then though,” he shrugs.

“And that’s different now?” She challenges, teasing him.

“Ha fucking ha,” he smirks as she chuckles. “I don’t remember a lot about it. I remember a private tour of the Sistine chapel. I remember thinking how small it was in comparison to what I expected. You always see the god finger painting thing but it’s harder to see than you think. I remember lying on a bench and looking up, my dad’s voice shouting ‘Romulus!’. It echoed through the whole place because he thought I was fucking around. He came over and smacked my leg to get me up, but I was just looking at the damn ceiling. I thought that was the point… The spaghetti was amazing too. I remember that,” he smiles as she frowns at his story. “Have you ever been?”

“Stayed the night once. Had a meeting there with some shareholder your dad wanted to impress but I never got the chance to see the place. Always wanted to though,” she smiles sadly.

“Well, maybe when all this shit is over and we go public, I'll take you. When’s your birthday? June? Right?”

“Yeah. 24th,” she smiles at his remembering.

“Oh yeah. Cancer star sign. I remember that. I didn’t know whether to get you something before because of ya know… didn’t really know what this was or if it would be weird to get you something but,” he shrugs. “Maybe your next birthday, I’ll take you to Rome. You know, if you want. You don’t have to,” he offers, squeezing her hand, looking down to the floor, afraid of her rejection.

“I’d like that,” she smiles, shaking his hand, reaching her head down to catch his eyes, as she smiles when he looks up to her.

“Yeah?” He asks excited.

“Why not? We’ve been to London now. Can’t go to Rome with my Rome,” she shrugs, her grin widening.

**Why does being called her Rome make his whole stomach flutter, that pit in his stomach knot deliciously, make his dick achingly hard. Hers. He’s hers. She thinks he’s hers. That’s all he’s ever wanted. To belong to someone. For someone to claim him and want him. The fact that it’s Gerri is even more fucking shocking and exhilarating.**

He puts his head on her shoulder, his baseball cap catching the back of it, his cheek resting on the edge, as she moves her head to kiss his cheekbone, becoming a little more used to the fact that no one seems to know who the fuck they are.

“Love you, Gerri,” he whispers.

“Love you, Rome,” she says, pressing the side of her head against the back of his, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb.

“THE NEXT STOP IS CAMDEN,” they both hear a posh English woman say over the speaker as he lifts his head off her shoulder.

****

He leads her out of the Camden underground station onto a busy street, her hand still clutching his even though they no longer have the excuse of a busy crowd to stay together as they begin to walk up the busy street. 

“All the stores here are usually super busy but I think it closes earlyish,” he tells her as they simply enjoy walking up the street, his hand now woven through hers as he changes their hand holding positions. “Probably would have been better to come earlier.”

“What do they sell?” She asks him, slightly swinging his hand.

“All different kinds of shit. Loads of London trinkets. But you can actually get some cool shit if you like sifting,” he shrugs, continuing as they continue walking in silence, reaching the end of the street after ten minutes.

They reach a bridge, stopping to look over the side as he stands behind her, his stomach pressed into her back, it becoming much darker now as the winter night takes over, with the surrounding fairy lights reflecting off the water.

“Pretty isn’t it?” He suggests, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she breathes, taking in the smell of the fresh air.

“It’s not the sea, but it’s close,” he smiles. “More of a canal. You can go underneath but it’s dark so probably not a good idea.”

“It’s beautiful,” she comments, resting her hand on top of his that’s settled on her stomach, before turning around so they can continue walking.

“In there is the actual Camden market,” he tells her pointing just as they move over the bridge. “They have like food shit and loads of different little stores,” he divulges.

She hums, looking up at the huge building reading ‘Camden Lock’.

“Sorry, it’s kind of shit coming at this time of night. There isn’t much here unless you want to go to a bar,” he shrugs, pulling a bottle out of his pocket and letting go of her hand to take a huge swig. “Amy Winehouse used to go to bars around here. Lived here. Think she died here too,” he keeps rambling nervously.

“I’m enjoying it, Rome. Just walking around. Looking at the buildings. It reminds me of all the books I’ve read. Old England,” she giggles as she takes the offered bottle and takes a large drink herself.

“Well you know, the house Charles Dickens stayed in when he was a kid is like one street along from the underground,” he raises an eyebrow.

“Fuck off, really?” She answers, screwing the lid back on and passing the bottle back to him to place in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he says taking her hand and turning back the way he came. “I would guess it’s still there. Had a plaque on it and shit,” he pulls at her hand as they walk back down to the underground, taking a turn down the street he thinks it is.

“It should be just around this corner,” he divulges, straining to look around the corner. “I remember it was like a small building,” still gripping her hand.

“There it is,” he says standing in front of the small house, moving towards the plaque as she leans forward to read it.

_Charles Dickens lived in a house on this site when a boy in 1823._

“Oh, I thought it was the actual house. I must not have been paying attention,” he grimaces looking around to her.

“It’s still interesting,” she shrugs, offering a weak smile as she looks at the house.

“Sorry. I thought it was his actual house,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Kind of disappointing.”

“It’s fine,” she smiles, squeezing his hand. “It’s still exciting being somewhere that someone so historical has been.”

“Well, apparently the area around here is where he based a lot of the ideas of his books on? Like Oliver and A Christmas Carol?” He offers weakly.

“Oh really? That’s interesting,” she smiles encouragingly.

“I’m sorry. I think there’s a museum where he actually lived? I don’t think it’s near here, but I can look it up and we can take the subway there,” he tells her panicked, pulling his phone out.

“Rome,” she soothes. “It’s fine. I don’t mind honestly.”

“Nah, this is shit,” he responds angrily, frustrated with himself, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Rome, I didn’t come here for you to show me where Charles Dickens lived. I came to see your London,” she smiles, reaching over to peck his lips gently.

He huffs when she pulls away, looking up at the stupid fucking house.

“Well, I know where Sylvia Plath lives? It’s right next to the place I actually was going to take you?” He offers, uneasily.

“Yeah. Let’s go there,” she smiles, tugging his hand.

“This one is definitely her house. I paid much more attention to her house. It’s a nice house,” he tells her quickly, fumbling over his words nervously.

“Even if it isn’t, it’s fine,” she laughs, squeezing his hand as they continue walking

“Do you like Sylvia Plath? Do you even like poetry?” He asks as he pulls her in the direction.

“I do like poetry. I’ve read a little Sylvia Plath, but I don’t know much about her. It was a little too depressing for me,” she shrugs as they continue walking.

“See, I’m not into poetry at all but then I heard about this chick and the whole depression thing. I read the Bell Jar in high school and thought it was crazy, like how she committed suicide just after she wrote it intrigued me. It’s one of the only books I ever read. I think my school thought I was strange because it was the only one I ever enthusiastically did read there. I thought it was strange that they even had it to be honest,” he shrugs.

****

They continue their walk for twenty minutes, discussing the books she had read, the ones that had fascinated her the most. The ones she was forced to read in college and the ones she always returned to that she had first read as a child. She had revealed Anne of Green Gables and Little Women to be her favourites, returning to them every few years.

He knew that they had been movies but had never seen them, made her tell him the stories of them both, suggesting that they watch them when they were finished with the Crown (since he knew he definitely was never going to pick the books up).

Finally, they reach the square where Sylvia Plath had lived, the blue plaque on the concrete wall, revealing that she had in fact definitely _lived_ in the building, from 1960-61 apparently.

_At least it was for a year and not on the general site._

“I always loved this square. Visit here nearly every time I come to London,” he smiles looking around at all the houses. “It’s nicer in the daylight. All the houses are a different colour. I think if a townhouse came up for sale here, I would buy it,” he turns around smiling at her.

“You should. You can afford it,” she smiles at him, looking up at the houses.

“Yeah, and see outside that house there,” he points a few doors down with the hand not clinging onto hers. “There is the coolest big pink cherry blossom tree in the spring. It’s like something out of fucking Mary Poppins.”

_She can’t help but smile, looking at the awe in his expression. Out of all of the places this extremely wealthy man could live in the world, this little row of houses here is what he wanted to purchase because he thought the houses looked beautiful and idealised. She supposes that’s Roman all over the back. It wasn’t about what everyone else thought he should like, it’s what he liked himself that was usually not the ordinary._

“I think you should sign up for an alert or something. Speak to a local realtor and tell them to let you know when one comes up,” she encourages.

“Yeah. Would be cool wouldn’t it,” he comments beginning to walk down the street past all the other coloured houses.

“If you could choose any of them, which would it be? The one with the cherry tree?” She asks looking up at the houses.

_She had to admit, they were very cute._

“The blue one,” he answers without missing a beat, leading her towards it, stopping in front of it.

“Oh yeah? Why this one?” She asks, looking up to it.

“I like the colour. It’s bold, though I also like the purple. And I like the way it’s designed at the top,” he tells her, looking over to her as she strains to see what he’s talking about.

“Come here,” he says, pulling her hand across the street.

“Do you see how the top floor of the house is designed differently? Has the block around it that’s taller than the rest of them? With the stairs next to it? It stands out,” he points, standing next to her.

“Oh yeah. I see now. And that one would be good because the big tree isn’t blocking your view as well,” she determines.

“Exactly. I would wake up in the morning and look across to that beautiful house across from me and over the whole square!” He extends his arm upward excitedly.

“It’s beautiful,” she evaluates, looking around to the square and imagining the view from up there. “Well, thank you for sharing this with me,” she smiles, tucking in close to him and grazing her lips against the shoulder of his coat.

“I could get the house. We could stay here when we come here for Ace? When we aren’t here for Ace. You could use it when I can’t come here. Wander around the streets anonymously when we are here together,” he smiles, his nose rubbing against the hat at her crown.

She hums, smiling, thinking of that fantasy.

_They’ve only been out for an hour or so and already this is the most relaxed she has been, out of sight from everyone in such a long time. It honestly feels so foreign and so right._

She looks up to him, her eyes wide, the old looking streetlamp behind her almost forming a halo behind her head.

“You’re so beautiful, Gerri,” he whispers, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “I think this is the most beautiful you’ve ever looked,” he smiles, pressing his forehead against hers and rubbing his nose against hers also.

She brings her hand up to his jaw, pulling him in for a soft kiss, which he quickly deepens though it is slow and languid, as she wraps her hand around his back, fisting her hand in his coat.

When she pulls back, her fingernails scrape his chin as she continues looking into his eyes.

“I don’t think I will ever forget this moment for as long as I live,” she whispers, smiling.

“Why?” He breathes, leaning into her hand.

“Because I’ve never felt so happy.”

“That’s all I want, Gerri. Is to make you happy.”

“You have no idea how happy you make me, honey. Thank you for that.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so simply leans in to kiss her more desperately this time as she responds, tightening her hold around him with both hands now.

_She doesn’t think she’s ever felt so swept away, so in love. She never thought she could have it all but right now that’s exactly how she feels. Like she has every single bit of it. She wants to tell him. Tell him how in love with him she is, but it sounds so immature, so fucking rom com movie and it makes her feel awkward. She hopes she can convey it in what she has said, in her tone, in her kiss, in her desperation for him._

He pulls back, pecking a few times, readjusting her hat as they both giggle a little as he does so before he retakes her hand.

“Come on,” he tugs her hand again. “There’s another blue plaque of a poet around the corner that you might know. I have no clue who the fuck it is,” he says leading the way silently as she follows, taking in the fresh air, her blood warm from the elation she is feeling. They take a sharp turn, crossing the street as he pulls her up to a house with said blue plaque.

_William Butler Yeats. 1865-1939. Irish poet and dramatist lived here._

“Fucking Yeats?” She asks him excitedly. “Yeats lived here?”

“You know him?” He asks confusedly.

“Of course, I fucking know him. He’s one of my absolute favourites. _I know that I shall meet my fate, Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love_ ,” she recites, smiling to him, as he smiles confusedly.

**He’s happy that she's happy but he does not understand poetry one fucking bit.**

“It’s from An Irish Airman Foresees His Death. He wrote it about a pilot in the first world war ready to plunge to his death in the name of king and country. I re-read it maybe ten years ago and it stuck with me. Felt like I could relate. _Those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love_ ,” she looks at him, her head lolling from side to side expectantly.

“Oh right, because of like obligation. You fight in the boardroom with people you don’t hate because they are redundant, and you look after the Roy’s that you don’t care about in a personal capacity, because it’s just your job. Right. I get it,” he nods, looking towards the house.

“Well, it’s not exactly applicable now. Didn’t love you then but it stayed with me. His other works are beautiful too,” she smiles, looking up to the building. “I wonder if he wrote that poem in this house.”

“It’s a nice house. Not as nice as Sylvia’s though,” he shrugs, looking around to her grinning.

“Yeah, the others were nicer,” she smiles, beginning to walk again. “Is this where you were planning on taking me?”

“Nah, that’s around the corner,” he says pulling on her hand.

****

She’s a little reticent about going into a park when it’s almost pitched black though he promises her it’s perfectly safe. She grasps his hand tightly the whole way, sidling up to his side as they seem to be climbing a large hill.

“I promise you, it’s completely safe. I spent basically all of my youth here,” he smiles, though she can hardly make him out.

“What is this place?” She asks panting at the incline.

“Primrose Hill,” he explains, continuing the ascent with her dragging behind.

“How were you even allowed here?”

“How do you not remember the number of times I used to just escape the manor and fuck off here with no one realising I’d gone until something bad happened?”

_She did remember that. Had gotten him out of a lot of trouble through the years._

“Fuck Roman. You could have warned me it was going to be a hike,” she breathes, exasperated after a few seconds.

He merely laughs, letting go of her hand and turning towards her to walk backwards.

“Can’t take the heat, Kellman?” He says jogging backward, accelerating in front of her.

“Roman,” she warns, starting to panic a little now that she’s not got his hand, surrounded by complete darkness.

He stops dead, shouting loudly to attempt to frighten her, it working when she screams, bumping into him, catching in his arms, as she smacks his arm instantly, her heart thudding.

“You’re a fucking ass, do you know that?” She shouts between thuds as he giggles, wrapping his arms around her waist, continuing to walk backwards as he pulls her with him slowly, whilst she huffs, her hands settling on his upper arms as they awkwardly walk a few steps.

He pulls her in closer, stopping on the spot, putting his hands under her coat around her waist, hearing her heavy breathing over the gusts of wind, the trees billowing.

She feels safe now that he’s surrounding her though he is still a fucking ass.

“Love you,” he says cutely, kissing her lips quickly which she responds to suspiciously.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t be sneaking up on me in a fucking pitched black park,” she fires back.

“Just wanted a reason for you to cling onto me,” he kisses again, smiling into the kiss as he walks back a few paces, taking her with him again. “Save me, Roman. Help me. Take me. I’m yours!” He shouts dramatically in a high-pitched voice. “Don’t worry I’ll protect you damsel in distress!” He declares in an overtly low-pitched voice.

“You’re an idiot,” she laughs as he pulls away, taking her hand again before silently walking the rest of the small distance until he gets to a paved area.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he smiles, putting his hands over her eyes as he directs her further across the patio, looking over his shoulder to what he wants her to view, moving behind her, whilst trying to keep his hand over her face.

He wraps an arm around her, removing his hand and wrapping it around her also, whilst she settles her hands on top of his.

“Open,” he says excitedly, looking at the same view of London over her shoulder.

“Oh wow,” she says, taking in the sparkling lights of the London skyline.

“Nice. Isn’t it?” He determines, his chin resting on her shoulder again, his new absolute favourite position. 

“Stunning,” she reviews, as they both spend time pointing out various buildings in the distance, arguing over which one the Shard is.

“Worth the climb?” He asks her cutely, kissing her jawline.

“Absolutely. Though I will need to rest before my descent,” she turns around and pecks his lips.

He laughs, letting go and pulling her over to a wooden bench, which she perches on, whilst he climbs on top, sitting on the edge of the back of it, his feet resting on the seat.

“Want a scotch?” He asks, pulling out a bottle from his pocket. “Or your water?”

“I’ve got a scotch here,” she says pulling out one of the small bottles as they both silently drink the contents and look out over the sky.

“You come up here a lot?” She asks him.

“I did a lot when I was a kid. Came back a few times as an adult. Used to like it best at night because no one’s around. Just put on my headphones and look at the skyline,” he says taking another swig.

“You would sit up here in the dark with headphones on. You have a fucking death wish,” she laughs, taking a sip of her scotch.

“No one comes up here. Trust me,” he smiles. “Wouldn’t let anyone hurt you anyway,” he tells her seriously, reaching to the back of her neck and running his finger along the warm skin through her hair poking out under her hat.

She smiles, standing up, and moving to sit in between his legs.

“How chivalrous,” she sighs, settling against him. “Do you want to try a bit of my scotch since it’s supposed to be a whisky tasting?”

“Swapsies,” he offers his bottle to her, as they exchange bottles. “My god. Yours is better,” he notes after swallowing a swig, trying to make out the writing on it. “You want it back?”

“No, I’m good,” she smiles looking out to the distance, leaning back into his warmth. “God, I feel like a teenager again. I used to do shit like this back home, climbing the water tower, but it wasn’t a view like this,” she sips her scotch again.

“The tar state, right? What was the views like there?”

“Mud,” she laughs as he joins in. “Nah, just little houses in a little town.”

“Sometimes I wish I lived in a little town, with a little family who gave a little bit of a shit about me,” he sighs, leaning down to rest his elbows on her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her neck, his cheek resting against hers as she turns her head to kiss his cheek, gripping his forearms.

“Well now you live in a big city, in a big apartment, and have a big old girlfriend who gives a big old shit about you. Who wouldn’t want that?” She chuckles looking back to the view.

“Whoever doesn’t is fucking crazy,” he sighs, kissing her cheek again before sitting back up. “Hey, we could totally fucking bone up here,” he quips, well half quips.

“Absolutely not,” she laughs, downing the rest of her drink.

“Why the fuck not?”

“We are in the open air and anyone could see us.”

“You said yourself it’s pitched black.”

“People could hear us.”

“I’ll be quiet,” he says standing with a smirk as she moves forward to let him move around her, downing his bottle and throwing it into the distance before jumping off of the bench.

“I’m wearing jeans,” she protests looking up to him as he towers over her.

“Can put them back on,” he leans forward kissing her lips.

“Not with these boots,” she whispers, kissing him back breathily as her hand tightens on the small bottle she’s holding.

“Okay then. A blow job?” He asks abruptly standing again.

“Roman,” she laughs shocked. “For fuck sake.”

“What? Don’t make out you’re a prude now,” he says sitting next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I know you’re a secret exhibitionist, Kellman,” he breathes against the skin of her neck, running his hand down the arm furthest away from him, his other hand reaching to graze across her chest through her thick woollen sweater, whilst her breath hitches.

He moves his lips across her neck, kissing softly as his hand trails down the front of her sweater, pulling it up as it gets to the top of her jeans, unbuttoning the top button.

“This is fucking insane,” she whispers as she hears the zip of her jeans being pulled down. “We shouldn’t be doing this here,” she feigns protest as she pushes her neck further into his kisses, whilst his hands squeezes under her jeans and panties, downward to touch her where she can already feel her arousal pooling.

“Fuck Rome,” she whispers as his two fingers start rubbing against her clit. She moves her mouth to the side, kissing him ardently, the taste of intermingled scotch between them, her tongue running against his, whilst her hips involuntarily push up against his hand, as his rolls in circles against her, her own hand dropping the glass bottle as it rolls off the bench and smashes so her hand can move to sit on top of his over her jeans to push him harder into her.

“You like that?” He whispers into her mouth. “Sitting out here in middle of a park as my fingers fuck you?” He only gets a moan in response as their foreheads are pressed together, their breath mingling as he speeds up his rhythm against her whilst her arousal grows higher and higher as time passes, small gasps leaving her lungs.

“I fucking love listening to you moan. Say my name, Gerri,” he directs her, his tongue penetrating her mouth again.

“Roman,” she moans into his mouth as she feels herself coming to the edge, her hand pushing harder against his, her other hand pushing into the back of his head so he can kiss her more intensely and then she’s falling over the edge. “Roman,” she moans into his mouth more desperately as her hips begin to buck into his hand, his lips leaving her mouth to graze along her jaw down to her pulse point as she rides out her orgasm.

She kisses him again when she gets the consciousness to do so, his hand leaving her jeans as he lets go of her mouth to suck his fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and sighing until he lets go with a pop.

“Fuck,” she whispers as she kisses him hard again, tasting herself on him, mixed with scotch as she pushes his sweater up, pushing her hand over his crotch, the hardness there already evident. “Already ready for me?” She growls as she palms him hard and his hips move up into her, his arm around her shoulder grasping her hard, whilst his hand trails down her neck, caressing lightly.

“I’m always ready for you,” he pants heatedly against her lips, as she smiles, biting his lower lip and moving her hand up to his jeans to undo the belt quickly, unfastening the button and pushing her hand quickly into his underwear.

“You feel so good,” she whispers into his mouth as she slides her hand over the hard silk of his erection. She can feel his hips encouraging his dick to slide up in rhythm with her hand, whilst she leans back against the back of the bench, kissing him ardently.

“My little slime puppy,” she whispers when she pulls back from his kiss, simply listening to his quickening breath, her pace increasing against him as each minute passes.

“Yeah. All yours,” he strains back, pumping into her hand.

“All mine,” she whispers again, as she kisses down his neck, trying to use her fist in his pants, to manoeuvre his jeans further down to pull him out to the cold air. He catches her intention, hovering off the bench as he pulls the jeans down a little with one hand, allowing her to pull him out. What he was not expecting was her to lean her head down and do exactly what he had asked for earlier.

“You don’t need to do that, Gerri,” he gives a strangled protest.

“I want to, baby,” she groans, looking back up to him when her swollen lips are just a breath away from where he’s always imagined her.

His head lolls back when she wraps her lips around him, he tries to remain still, but he can’t help the small instinctual jerk that comes from even the thought of her doing this.

“Fuck, Gerri. Yeah. Fuck. Just like that,” he moans as she moves her lips down him, her hand taking care of the rest, building up a rhythm, until she feels he’s almost there.

**This is even better than he had imagined, and fuck has he imagined this for such a fucking long time. Just looking at her plump lips, day after day, imaging them wrapped around him. It was enough to drive him fucking crazy.**

He wants to put his hand on the back of her head, push her down so he’s deeper within her, but he doesn’t want to discourage her, doesn’t want to pressure her when he’s already so fucking elated for this moment, already struggling so badly not to jerk hard into her mouth so he grasps the back of the bench agonisingly, his knuckles aching at the strength he’s clutching it with.

The salty taste of precum against her tongue is the giveaway he’s almost there as she reaches down to cup his balls, squeezing lightly, as her head continues to bob up and down which is when it’s all over. He shoots into her mouth, his hips bucking up into it as she moves her mouth further down around him, squeezing her hand as he releases completely into her as she pulls back a little, swallowing everything he gives her before removing her mouth from him, wiping her lips with her back of her hand.

“That is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life,” he gasps, his chest heaving as his hand comes to rest on her back whilst she moves up next to his mouth. She grins smugly, moving her tongue into his so he too can taste himself as their mixture of different scotch and different ejaculate infuses beautifully between their mouths.

“Tell anyone I ever did that, and I will have you castrated,” she smiles when she pulls back a little, pecking him once more for good measure.

“Tell someone that a sober Gerri Kellman wearing a beanie gave me head in a public park after I got her off? No one would believe me if I did,” he smiles, pecking her lips once more, before they both move to their jeans to try and right themselves, before she cuddles into him, looking back to the skyline before her.

“Now this is definitely one of my most favourite places in the world. First Gerri Kellman blowjob. I would pay for that plaque to be screwed into this bench,” he tightens his hold around her, pulling her in closer. “I may buy this bench from whoever the fuck owns it.”

She scoffs, thinking of her wantonness.

_She had never done anything that wild before. She doesn’t even know what came over her but she’s not regretting doing it. If that doesn’t show that she’s becoming a completely new person, she doesn’t know what would._

“What do you want to do now?” She asks him, looking up to him briefly.

“I got what I wanted. This is your show now,” he smiles. “Anything you want, I will give you.”

“Well, I saw a movie theatre back near the underground. I’ve not been to one in years. You want to go see a movie?”

“Hold your hand in the back row of a movie theatre? Like a real couple does? Fuck yes, I want to,” he smiles as he lets her go, standing up and taking her hands to pull her up too.

“We are a real fucking couple. People just don’t know it yet. But no fucking funny business in the theatre. You’ve had your fun,” she warns, taking his hand as they begin walking back down the hill.

“Spoil sport,” he smiles, squeezing her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So nearly everywhere I've mentioned in this fic in London is absolutely a place with all the info as accurate as Google info and street view provides.  
> Welcome to the fluff parade, lads!


	11. Scenes from Roman's London - Part 2

“So, _Parasite_?” He shrugs, looking around to her in the cinema foyer, his hand still gripping hers.

She’s looking up to the television on the wall, squinting her eyes to see the other possible options, considering their start times also.

“Gerri, it’s that or a horror,” he rolls his eyes, becoming impatient with the standing around. “Creepy fucking nuns chasing a girl down a dark corridor in an old abandoned asylum.”

**They had been here for ages. She had immediately gone to the rest room to clean herself up after their escapades and then ten minutes of standing and weighing up the pros and cons of the three possibilities at their disposal. Can’t she just fucking pick already.**

“There’s no fucking way I’m going to see a horror,” she tells him resolutely, as he swings her hand in his.

“So, then Parasite. Come on. It’s a foreign movie. I would think you would love shit like that. Won the Academy Award for Best Picture,” he tells her, sidling in close, nuzzling into her neck.

“Yeah, but it’s usually a sexy French movie. Not Korean. And I read contracts all day. I don’t know if I can be assed reading subtitles,” she pulls a face, trying to retract her head away from him as he irritates her when she’s trying to concentrate.

“Come on. You love reading,” he smiles, pecking her neck and pulling away, realising he’s skating on thin ice.

She turns and gives him a pointed look.

“What about _The Two Popes_?”

He blows a huge raspberry that echoes in the foyer, attracting attention from the people around him, two young girls giggling wildly as he smiles and waves to an older couple scowling at them.

“Hi, how are ya?” He comments to them whilst they shake their heads at him, before turning his attention back to her. “Because it looks fucking lame. If I wanted to sleep, I would just go back to the hotel. Why won’t you just trust me? I’ll bet you dinner afterwards that you fucking love it.”

She sighs, looking at him, seeing his excited eyes.

“I have a good vibe about it. Come on. I really want to see this. You got to pick the Crown and I didn’t complain once! You can pick the movie next time,” he tries to negotiate.

“When the fuck will there be a next time for me to pick the movie?” She laughs, “this is the first I’ve been to a movie theatre in years.”

He sighs sadly, looking up to the showtimes again.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Let’s go see _The Two Popes_ ,” he concedes, pulling her hand so they can move to the concessions area, moving slowly as he huffs.

“Oh my god. Fine,” she gives in, letting his hand go as she removes the hat from her head, trying to fix her hair. “We’ll go see the Korean movie.”

“Really?” He looks around to her excitedly.

“Yeah, but if it’s shit, you’re buying dinner and I’m picking the next three movies,” she warns, pointing a finger at him as he wraps his hands around her waist, peppering her face with kisses as she protests, giggling and trying to push him off.

“You’re the best,” he finishes with his hands gripping her waist, a final kiss smacked on her lips. “Okay, what we eating?” He lets her go, looking up at the televisions above the counter now at the possibilities as they wait in the queue.

“Don’t start getting a stupid amount of snacks if we’re going to eat after,” she warns looking up.

“Yes mommy,” he rolls his eyes, nudging her with his shoulder.

_She’s just about to remind him how much she hates being called that before she misses her chance._

“First here please,” a young woman shouts from the next counter as he practically runs to her.

“Good evening,” he greets dramatically in his shittiest faux English accent. “We’re going for two to see Parasite please,” he tells the cashier as Gerri leans on the counter next to him, stuffing the hat into her pocket.

“No problem,” the peppy young girl assures. “The one just starting? Do you have a limitless card or any discount cards?”

“Sorry, what’s a limitless card?” Gerri asks confused.

“Oh, it’s just a subscription card to the Odeon. You pay it monthly, get in whenever you want,” the girl explains.

“No, we don’t have that. What other discounts cards are there?” Roman queries.

“Uhm… like a student card or if you’re over 60 years old, you’d get a senior discount?” The girl explains smiling.

Roman’s face contorts into an amalgamation of complete mirth and fucking smugness as he turns towards Gerri, his lips inverted, trying to hold in his laughter. Gerri looks back to him with narrow eyes, her tongue firmly pushing against her cheek, fucking daring him to make a joke.

“Honey? Do you have any of those cards?” He asks her gleefully, a small scoff escaping as he tries to keep his face straight.

She narrows her eyes at him, before turning her attention back to the girl.

“I’m over 60,” Gerri tells her confidently. “But I don’t have a discount card for it.”

Roman smiles, turning back towards the girl, “and I’m a student though I left my card at home,” he curls his lip as though he’s misplaced said card, pretending to pat his coat pockets.

“It’s okey,’ Gerri tells the worried looking girl. “We’ll pay full price.”

“No problem,” the girl smiles as she processes the tickets. “Where would you like to sit?” She asks as a seating plan comes up on the screen on their side, showing all the available seats.

“Back row,” he announces confidently, pointing to the seats away from everyone else.

“K12 and 13,” she confirms, smiling at the young girl.

“That’s great. Can I get you any food?” The young girl asks.

“Well I want a large sweet and salted popcorn with a large coke,” he declares confidently, turning around to smile at Gerri, who raises an eyebrow.

“Well, how about we get a regular popcorn and coke, and share it?” She offers, looking to reach a happy medium.

“Roman doesn’t share,” he frowns at her.

“I’m not even going to have that much.”

“Fine,” he confirms as the girl listens attentively and starts to prepare their order. “What about getting some candy?” He begins looking around at the different chocolate around them, picking up a packet of Minstrels and throwing them on the counter, as she simply watches him.

“What is sweet and salted popcorn?” She whispers to him confused, leaning in. “Don’t they have butter?”

“Nah, sweet is like just popcorn with sugar and salt is well… popcorn with salt. I get a mix because it ends up balancing itself out,” he shrugs, smiling as the girl places down the popcorn, going back for the drink, whilst he steals a piece quickly, Gerri making a noise in disapproval, earning her a cheeky grin.

“You don’t want something else? How about an alcoholic beverage?” He asks her, rubbing a hand against the small of her back as she continues to lean on the counter.

“Uhm… what is there?”

“Ehm…” he stands on his tip-toes, leaning over the counter to see inside the small fridge on the back counter. “Red merlot. White Pinot Grigio. Prosecco? Bleugh. Rosé. I think I’m going to have a Peroni. Oh, they also have gin and tonic,” he pouts, still looking at the options in the fridge.

“Gin and tonic,” she decides.

“Excuse me,” he shouts to the girl. “Can we also get a Peroni and two gin and tonics? Just put the gin and tonics in one pint glass? Thanks!”

“Two?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Well I’m going to have to get you shit faced if I’m going to get you to touch my dick in a dark theatre,” he whispers leaning into her, kissing her jaw.

“Not here,” she whispers. “You’re going to scare the poor girl.”

He frowns at that unsure why she’s suddenly changed her mind about being affectionate.

**Why the fuck is she suddenly so funny about him kissing her now? Surely not because she removed a fucking hat. That girl has no idea who the fuck they are. She’s probably like 17. Probably too busy thinking about fucking Harry Styles or Justin Bieber or whoever the fuck girls squeal over these days.**

“And I’m not touching your dick in here. I made that clear in the park,” she smiles, pushing off the counter, touching his hand and stroking it gently.

“Here you go,” the young girl says finally putting everything down in front of them. “So, the tickets and the food altogether are going to be £45.40.”

“I’m paying,” Gerri says firmly, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her card wallet.

“No, no, no,” he protests. “I’m paying!” He points to his chest, gesturing to the girl to wait, before reaching into his own pocket.

“Roman,” she warns. “You’re going to be paying for dinner, so I’ll get this,” she smiles smugly, swiping her card on the machine before he can remove his from his wallet.

They go through the torment of trying to balance all of the different items, whilst trying to get their tickets ripped as she leads the way up to the seats in the already dark theatre as the trailers play.

Once they are settled, coats discarded, baseball cap thrown to the side, she takes a sip of the gin and tonic, grimacing, though she accepts that it’ll have to do.

_She always enjoyed going to movie theatres when she was younger, had enjoyed taking her kids in the few times she had had the chance to do so when they were younger. The anticipation of coming to see a movie with a room full of strangers was a weird concept when you think about it, but yet so normal. She had her first kiss in a movie theatre when she was 14. Paul Hinch. Weird the things you remember. She wonders whatever became of Paul Hinch. If he was still back home with a little family. She’ll bet he never would imagine her here in London with Roman Roy and the CEO of a fortune 500._

_This theatre looks pretty quiet though. Maybe due to the movie being out for so many months. She had heard its hype. It wasn’t really something she would every go see. But for him she would concede because he’s already given her one of the best nights of her life and she could sit through a two-hour movie for him if that gave something back._

She reaches over to his popcorn, pulling out a few pieces and delicately placing them into her mouth, feeling the odd mixture of the salt and sweet blending together.

“Not so bad?” He asks, having been watching her the whole time.

“Not bad at all,” she smiles.

“You want chocolate?” He asks reaching for the pack next to him.

“I’m good for now,” she smiles, reaching over again to steal popcorn to place in her mouth.

He sighs, the thing at the counter still playing on his mind.

**He wants to ask her about it, but he knows he should be enjoying this moment. Enjoying the time spent with her, enjoying how free they have been allowed to be tonight, but he can’t because he feels rejected, feels like he done something wrong, feels like he was scolded. He can’t sit through this movie and enjoy it with it playing on his mind. He just can’t.**

“Why wasn’t I allowed to kiss you at the counter?” He asks her, his eyes never leaving her face as she stares at the screen.

“What?” She whispers back, leaning a little closer, her eyes still glued to the screen.

He rolls his eyes, leaning over to her ear.

“Why wasn’t I allowed to kiss you at the counter? I’ve been kissing you all night. You even kissed me first in front of people on the underground,” he looks at her as she turns her head towards him.

“Because whilst I don’t mind public displays of affection, there is a time and a place for it,” she smiles, pecking his lips as she steals more popcorn from his box.

“I don’t get it,” he grimaces.

“It’s one thing to kiss in pubic when a moment’s private, when no one’s really looking. On the train when you’re not in a conversation with someone and practically in your own bubble. And even when you’re in a park or on a street when no one is around. But it’s not necessary when your subjecting a cashier to sit and watch you making out in their face while they are trying to get on with their job. It isn’t necessary and it makes people uncomfortable. There’s a time and a place,” she reiterates as she pops the popcorn into her mouth, still smiling as she chews.

“Oh! So, it wasn’t because you thought she would recognise us?”

“Roman, I’m sure she didn’t have any fucking idea who we were. I just wouldn’t want a couple making out in my face when I’m trying to negotiate a fucking acquisition with them, so why would I do it to someone else when they’re trying to get on with their job?”

“Right. That makes more sense,” he smiles, looking back to the screen.

“What did you think it was?” She asks, moving her hand to his thigh and scraping her nails across it.

“I don’t know. We’ve been affectionate all night and then it just 180’d. I didn’t know why. Thought you were going back to being no touching, cautious Gerri,” he shrugs.

“No, I wasn’t and I’m glad you just asked me instead of letting it fester. But you do know we’re going to have to go back to that after tonight? We can’t go back to stealing moments in the office until it’s all out in the open. It’s too dangerous. We need to be more cautious now than ever,” she tells him sadly, rubbing her thumb against his thigh.

“Yeah, I know,” he responds whining, looking down at his box of popcorn.

“Let’s not think about it. We still have a whole night,” she smiles enthusiastically, crossing her legs over towards him to lean closer, her chest against his arm, her foot grazing his calf, lifting her hand to the popcorn and taking out a few pieces to put into his mouth, his tongue grazing the pads of her fingers as he takes the popcorn off her, wrapping his lips around her finger as she slowly withdraws it.

“Gerri flavoured popcorn. Now there’s an idea,” he raises his eyebrows, kissing her soundly as another trailer booms on.

“Don’t think it’s much of an investment. Only you would buy from it. Can’t buy from yourself and make a living,” she smiles, kissing him back, her nail scraping his chin.

“Would be worth it just for the flavour,” he smiles pulling back from her kiss. “Now pay attention because I want to win fair and square. You’re not hating it because you’re not paying attention.”

“Oh, I’ll pay full attention, but will you?”

“Oh my god, the new James Bond is out soon. I wanna see that,” he comments, shoving popcorn into his mouth as she smiles, placing another piece into her mouth and crunching softly turning her attention to the screen.

****

The movie moves slowly, the subtitles becoming more unnoticeable as time moves on.

_The common misconception about subtitles being hard work when they are completely fine after the first few minutes._

They hold hands throughout the movie, her hand clutching his at that moment when it starts to take a turn.

“I thought you said this wasn’t a horror?” She whispers to him panicked as she ducks down in her chair, leaning closer to him.

“I didn’t think it fucking was,” he squeezes her hand, moving the almost empty box of popcorn onto the floor.

They settle again when the moment passes, the plot line further proving it’s not a horror. _She’s enthralled by the movie but there is a moment when she comes out of it, realising where she is. Sitting in a theatre, with a bunch of strangers, holding his hand._

She looks around and sees him sipping his beer, her shitty gin and tonics half gone, an annoying piece of popcorn stuck in her teeth; and she can’t think of anything more perfect. _The simplest of things that every ordinary person takes for granted that they can’t indulge in._ _It makes her want to go public now more than ever. The ideal that they could do things like this more often. That they could walk up the street together, explore a city, explore each other, share stories, hold hands, steal kisses, and not worry about someone catching them out. That she realises is her newest goal, because this is the life she wants. This right here; from her hand in his, to the popcorn stuck between her teeth. She wants it all._

She smiles, looking around to him, shocked that he’s sat still this long, that his attention is still so focussed; further proving that Roman Roy simply needs something to hold his concentration, only becoming fidgety when he’s under stimulated. She lifts his hand to graze her lips as she turns her attention back to the screen, concentrating back on the movie because she promised him she would and to be honest she’s completely fascinated about where it’s heading.

He looks around to her, feeling her soft lips, her smile against the back of his hand, looking around and offering him a small smile before dropping the hand to her lap.

**He knows he wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else in the whole world than here right now; than with her right now. If a magic genie could grant him any wish in the world it would be to live the life he has lived tonight with her on a permanent basis. He would give up all his wealth and notoriety, his family, his life, just to sit in a shitty movie theatre, in a cramped auditorium, on the most uncomfortable seat he’s sat in in his entire life, drinking a mediocre beer, just to be with her.**

He strokes his thumb against the back of her hand, turning his attention back to the movie and he thinks this is the most content he’s felt in his whole entire life.

When ‘Directed by Bong Joon Ho’ comes up on the screen, she gives a huge sigh, her eyes bulging as he turns around looking at her with the same expression.

“Tha fucccckkkk,” is about all he can offer after that ending.

“Yeah,” she breathes, stretching her legs out before sitting up properly on the edge of her seat, as he lies his head back against chair letting go of her hand to rub his eyes.

“I need to pee,” he declares, standing up energetically and putting his coat on, whilst she does the same.

“Okay,” she mumbles, putting her scarf around her neck, picking up the cups and put them inside each other, then the sweet packet, all of which she puts inside the popcorn box before picking it up.

“What are you doing?” He scoffs, slamming his cap onto his head.

“Cleaning up after myself. A foreign concept to you I’m sure,” she challenges with a smirk and quirked eyebrow.

“Lame,” he mumbles as she shoves him, whilst he giggles leading the way out of the auditorium.

“You need to learn to be nicer to staff members. It costs you nothing to do it,” she warns him as they walk down the stairway. “That includes Jonathan.”

“What?!” He protests with a squeak. “Jonathan loves me!”

“Jonathan probably goes to bed fantasising about all the ways he could possibly torture you,” she laughs as she walks through the door he’s holding open for her.

“He’s not the only one, is he Kellman? Both of you, kinky little fucks. Wanting your way with the one and only Roman Roy,” he teases as she throws the trash away. “Get in fuckin’ line,” he jests, shouldering her as she stops dead, her eyes becoming narrow again.

“Go to the restroom, Roman,” she orders, turning to make her way to the ladies one herself.

“Wait, wait, wait. Not so fast,” he shouts grasping her hand and pulling her closer. “So?” He asks smugly, putting his arm around her waist.

“So?” She mimics with a challenging eyebrow.

“How did you find the movie?” He grins, knowing full well how enthralled she was.

She pouts thoughtfully, looking up to the ceiling, running a hand down his arm.

“It was okay,” she toys.

“Liar,” he laughs.

“Okay, it was actually very good though I couldn’t even tell you why. But yes, I enjoyed it,” she smiles, as he sways her from side to side.

“Fucking knew it,” he smiles, leaning in to peck her lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” she groans, releasing from his arms, as he runs his hand down her arm, the further she walks away.

“I think I shall order a feast,” he declares, as she shakes her head with a small smile, finally letting her go of her hand as they go their separate ways to the restrooms.

****

They had made their way back onto the underground, dinner undetermined since it was just after 11pm and every restaurant at this point was shut.

**He was back in charge and though dinner was likely only possible at the hotel at this point, he had had a swift change of mind when they had got off at Leicester Square. He should have changed trains but instead lead the way to the exit and out into the open air.**

**He had the idea of walking along the Thames which was too inviting to bypass. The thought of going back to the hotel and ending this was too devastating and she seemed happy to go with the flow; his flow. He had never met anyone like Gerri. She had come across so hard on the exterior but had this complete other world deep within her. He wasn’t ready to let the night go; not ready to let her go. He didn’t know the next time this would be an option and he wasn’t giving it up that easily.**

They are standing on the edge of the sidewalk outside the subway station, taking in the buzzing around them when she looks around at him.

“Now what?” She bites her lip, looking at him.

“Well, you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Ever had a chippy?”

“A what?”

He can’t help giggling at her scrunched up face, her eyebrows peeking out from under his woollen hat. He can’t help leaning forward and giving her a soft kiss which she returns happily, though confused.

“What was that for?” She asks, her expression softer now.

“Because you’re too fucking cute right now. Come on. We’re going to my favourite chip shop. It’s just up here,” he says taking her hand and leading the way towards Leicester Square.

“They have a store dedicated to chips? I didn’t know they were so popular here. Is it like the M&M store in Times Square?”

“No, it’s not our chips. It’s fries. But they’re not fries. Their like thicker and everything is deep fried. It’s genius,” he explains as she grimaces at the thought. “It’s nice. I used to come here all the time after getting thrown out of clubs.”

“What a rave review,” she quips, her lips quirking.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he says as they approach the intended place – _Fish and Chipper_.

They stand outside as she looks at the big neon sign, noting lots of people already inside it.

“What do they sell?” She asks sceptically, trying to look in the window as he pulls her hand, encouraging her inside, like he would imagine dragging a kid into a haunted house, or him into a review meeting with Frank.

“I usually get chips and ask them to sprinkle some cheese on top. Learned that in Glasgow,” he grins as she looks up at the menu.

“Roman. That sounds revolting,” she sighs, biting the inside of her mouth, trying to find something remotely enticing.

“They sell lots of things. Different types of fish, pies, chicken, sausage…,” he trails off, noting her unimpressed face. “You know what? It’s cool. We can just go back to the hotel,” he determines, turning around to walk out.

“No!” She shouts a little too loudly, pulling him back in closer as she eyes everyone around them. “Just order whatever you think. It’s your night. Trying new things, right?” She smiles pathetically.

“Gerri, you don’t need to eat here,” he tells her.

“No, no. I’ve tried fucking shark in Japan. I’m sure I could try fries or chips in London,” she smiles, tightening her hand around his to encourage him.

“Okay,” he sighs, walking closer to the counter. “Hey dude. Could I have two portions of chips and can I have one of them with some sprinkled cheese on it, if you have it?”

“That costs extra,” the gruff looking man barks back.

“Yeah, whatever that’s fine,” he says pulling his wallet out.

“That’s £12.90,” the man barks again, shovelling chips into a container.

She jumps forwards, her hand on his arm, “wait, I need to pay. I lost the bet.”

“You don’t think I was actually going to hold you to that, do you?” He smiles, about to lean in to peck and then remembering her rule, pulling back with an awkward smile. “You take credit?” He asks the man as he watches him unceremoniously dump the two boxes in a plastic bag onto the counter.

The man doesn’t respond, simply grabs the card machine, inputting the amount, and holding it up as Roman swipes it.

“Next!” The guy shouts once it’s processed.

“No, thank you kind sir,” Roman shouts sarcastically as he snatches the bag from the top of the counter, whilst Gerri begins lightly encouraging him out of the store before he says something worse. _Roman might be wittier but that huge fucking guy could easily take him._

“Fucking dick,” Roman mumbles as when gets outside. “No one has any fucking manners man.”

She smiles, trying to hold in a little laughter, considering Roman was not exactly renowned for his manners.

“So, where do we eat it?” She asks, looking around.

“I was thinking we could take a walk down to the water. Eat it there? Only like a ten-minute walk away?”

“That sounds great,” she tells him softly, taking his hand again as he leads the way, his anger instantly dissipating.

****

They are settled on a bench, facing the London Eye, a rowdy pub on a docked boat next to them, the breeze cool as she takes the first nervous bite of her food. He watches, smiling; can’t help finding the humour in watching Gerri eat a fry as if it were some exotic dish, like a fucking slug on a desert island or something.

“Well?” He asks amusedly.

“Not bad,” she mumbles, nodding.

“You’ve had fries before, right?” He teases.

“Of course, I fucking have. You’ve seen me eat them. They just usually aren’t so greasy,” she notes with her teeth scraping a film of her tongue, as he laughs, taking the bottle of water out of his pocket and handing it to her as she takes large gulp.

He pulls out his whiskey, taking a huge swig before digging into his chips with cheese.

“I don’t know how you can eat that,” she shakes her head disgusted, popping another chip into her mouth.

“Chippies with cheese,” he delights in a high-pitched voice, digging his little wooden fork into a bunch of it. “Try a bit,” he challenges, pushing it towards her.

“No thanks,” she pulls her head away.

“You know you’re just going to taste it in my mouth when I make out with you later anyway. Why not just try it?” He pushes a little further forward.

“No.”

“Come on Kellman! Where’s your sense of adventure?” He scowls, holding it up to her as her whole body now angles back from him.

“My dish is adventure enough,” she responds flatly.

“Chicken shit. Can fucking fight congress but won’t try a chip with some cheese,” he shakes his head, looking back down to his dish.

“God, you’re so annoying,” she huffs, moving her little wooden fork towards his food before he pulls away quickly with a grin.

“Allow me,” he says, moving the monstrosity towards her. “Here comes the choo choo train,” he shouts enthusiastically as she narrows her eyes, opening her mouth to him to try it, catching a fallen piece of cheese in her hand under the fork before it ruins her coat.

“Meh, it’s okay,” she evaluates, chewing it.

“You have no taste,” he frowns.

“Well you’re proof of that,” she jibes with a smirk, chewing her own food.

“You’re fucking coats are proof enough of that,” he hits back.

“What’s wrong with my fucking coats? I take fucking pride in my coat collection. They are all hand-picked and stunning,” she fires back offended.

“Sorry, I thought it was opposite day like we were talking about shit we loved being bad taste,” he smiles gleefully, fluttering his eyelashes. “You know, since you love me but make out it’s proof of bad taste. I feel the same about your coats.”

_Fuck he was so damn cute._

“Jerk,” she mutters with a smile as she takes another bite.

They walk along the Thames after and dare she say it, it’s extremely romantic.

_Romance was not something Gerri Kellman was accustomed too. She had lived her life in practicality and often rolled her eyes at the thought of romanticism. She and Baird had relished their marriage in practicality. It suited them both. Choosing her own flowers, picking out her own jewellery that she would pay for, Baird on occasion also. It was for the best. Not having to waste her time having to return a piece of jewellery Baird would buy her that she was never going to wear. She had always felt things like clothing, jewellery, and perfume were such personal things; not really one that could be relied upon to be chosen by another. It was she who had to wear it, so it would be she who would be choosing it. It was often her only form of expression in the small ways she could be expressive whilst limited to a certain look that was expected from her. There was no way she was going to allow that small freedom to be taken up by something she didn’t want to wear._

_Then there had been romantic trips away with Baird. They hadn’t had any time for that really. Their honeymoon had been the closest, their 20-year anniversary the next, since every other vacation had been with the Roy’s or their kids. Even those two vacations hadn’t been extremely romantic. They were extremely companionable; Baird wasn’t one to try to be impressive with big gestures and she wasn’t one to need them. The most romantic they likely had been was when they would sail in the off chance they got the odd time off; the little time spent together being companionable. She supposes being companionable was their romance._

_This, however, simply walking hand in hand, taking in the views, stolen kisses as she leaned over the wall to look at the views across the Thames. She felt it was romantic. Maybe because of the feeling inside her just now. She could feel that surge within her stomach, that shiver down her spine when he would press up against her back and wrap his arms around her, grazing his lips against her neck. Maybe it was anonymity and freedom. But more likely, maybe it’s because she had never felt so desired and alive in her entire life. She had never felt unattractive. Baird had always been one to compliment her and lustful over her when the occasion presented itself. But under Roman’s eye, under his attention she felt like a goddess. She had never felt like that with anyone else. Not even Baird. With Baird she fit the bill in every way. But with Roman it was like she was something special. Like somehow, she was above every other woman in his eyes. That no one got a look in because she merely existed. What had he once called her? A siren. She felt like she had so much control over him because he was willingly putting himself completely at her mercy; so consumed in her that he would willingly give his life just so his skin could touch hers. It wasn’t just that he desired her physically though, he seemed to just desire every part of her. He was in awe of her intelligence and wit. He was the only person who seemed to think that her stone-cold killer bitch persona was actually scintillating instead of unappealing like the many other men who had “put up with it” due to their need for her intellect. He also brought out that kind, loving part of her that had been locked away for so many years. He was the only person who seen her for who she was. Who wanted to see her. Who wanted to know her. But not only did he want to know everything about her, he wanted to push her into new things, new experiences. He brought out the wild, adventurous side of her that she felt she had lost so long ago. Being the stone-cold killer bitch could discourage people from wanting to get to know you. Most people kept their distance; intimidated by her, maybe even afraid of her. There was no one there to nudge her into exploration, but Roman seemed to have no fear. Whether he was encouraging her to eat the god-awful chips with cheese, or watching a pretty great Korean movie, or taking her on an exploration of London, he was broadening her mind, challenging her, restoring her to her true self. So, here she was, pressed up against a stone wall, the Thames running behind her, as she was being completely ravished by him and holy fuck did she feel the most exhilarated she had ever felt in her whole life. Thanks to him. All thanks to him. What would she be doing if they had not pursued this? In a hotel room, reading a contract? Reading a book in bed? She much prefers this._

She renews her vigour, her hands carding through his hair, her calf wrapped around the back of his knee as he pushes her into the stone barrier, his hands travelling up to the skin of her lower back under her sweater.

“I want you so much, Gerri. So, fucking much,” he whispers when he pulls back for air, pecking at her jaw.

“I know, honey. I do, too. We need to cool it down though. Plenty of time for that when we get back to the hotel,” she smiles, when she pushes him away a little, attempting to be the sensible one, pecking his lips before he pulls back, taking her hand again and strolling up the bank of the Thames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my good god, this London adventure still isn't over. I was like half way through writing this chapter and it was so long so it's been halved in two. I'm like half way through the next chapter so here's hoping it won't be too long. Again this chapter seems filler but you guys didn't seem to upset about that the last time!  
> It's my birthday today and I've been binging 'The Fall' after I got messages from 10 different friends suggesting I did, so I'm all over the place. Soon though! I promise!  
> Thank you for reading and commenting. It gives this little Glasgow gal some hope!


	12. Scenes from Roman's London - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muthafuckin part three.. told you it wouldn't be long.

He decides they are going to take the scenic route back to the hotel when she suggests they should start heading back, leading her up a street towards Trafalgar Square. He notes the buzzing of a pub ahead of them, a thrum of people outside smoking behind a barrier. She’s silently smiling next to him, looking up at the surrounding buildings when she feels him stop dead.

“Oh fuck,” she hears him whisper.

“What?” She looks around to him confused

“Ohhh fuck,” he laughs, shaking his head and genuinely smiling at someone in the smoking area.

“IT CAN’T BE! NO FUCKING WAY!” She hears a deep English accent squealing as she looks around to try and place the voice to the person.

“Maggie,” he smiles as he approaches a 6 foot whatever drag queen who is pushing by people to get to the barrier, revealing a sparkly red floor length gown, her hands thrown up in the air, holding her cigarette, and her sparkling white teeth on display as she screams at him. He lets go of Gerri’s hand, approaching the drag queen, hugging her over the barrier as she screams further, gripping him in a deep hug.

Gerri doesn’t know what to think. Can only imagine that Roman clearly knows who the fuck this is, but she’s never met a drag queen before and to be honest she’s fascinated as they are both out-towered by her.

“Shhh… I’m in Cognito. You’re going to blow my cover,” Roman whispers, still smiling at her.

“You’re always in fucking cognitio you little prick. Where the fuck have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages!” Maggie hits his shoulder, taking a drag of her cigarette as she smiles at Gerri.

“You know, work and stuff,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, as he notes Gerri next to him. “Oh shit! Sorry. This is Gerri. She’s my… boss,” he finishes awkwardly, drawing out the whole word.

“The boss?” Maggie quirks her eyebrow with a grin, taking a huge inhale of her cigarette and exhaling through her nose with raised eyebrows. “I’ve seen you in the media. Your cover was on Instagram,” she smiles, eying Gerri up who looks a little embarrassed.

“Gerri. This is Maggie. Maggie Snatcher. You know like… Maggie, well Margaret Thatcher… but,” he shrugs, gesturing with his hands.

“Pleased to meet you,” Gerri smiles, her hands in her pockets. “Beautiful gown.”

“Oh, thank you!” Maggie shouts. “I love your coat!” She declares, gesturing flamboyantly towards it. “Very chic. Is it Armani couture?”

“Valentino,” Gerri smiles looking down at it.

“Very fucking cute. Your whole look is just,” Maggie flows her hand in front of Gerri, gesturing to her look. “Fabulous. Gorgeous.”

“Why thank you,” Gerri grins, a little embarrassed at the attention.

“So, what you doing here? Thought you were in New York?” Roman asks, trying to bring the attention away from Gerri.

“Came back a few months ago. Will probably be back in New York soon though. Going to see how it pans out here. It’s my Diana Ross act tonight. Had the dress custom made. Brand new lace front as well,” she divulges enthusiastically touching up her hair.

“Gerri loves Diana Ross,” Roman smiles, looking around to Gerri, unable to resist the temptation to tease her, also wishing to include her.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, she’s a disco fanatic,” he smiles, as Gerri looks at him smiling knowingly with her jaw clenched.

_You little shit._

“Then you’re in the right place! It’s disco night! You should come in for a drink! I’m just about to go on in five minutes,” Maggie offers to them enthusiastically.

“Oh, we can’t. We have work in the morning and,” Roman begins but is cut off.

“Don’t be a dick, Roman. I’ve not seen you in over a year. You don’t need to pay in. I’ll whack you on my guest list,” Maggie winks at him. “Gerri, tell him.”

Gerri looks around to him with her eyebrows raised challengingly

“We could come in for a drink,” she tells Maggie, looking at Roman smugly as he simply smiles back at Gerri, narrowing his eyes.

“Okey, yeah, cool. We can’t say long though,” Roman tells Maggie.

“Ha Ha! Fabulous. I need to go in and prep, but I will look out for you! You want a snout?” She asks him, holding an open pack of cigarettes out to him.

“Yeah, fuck it. Thanks,” he says taking one and taking her offered light also.

“Hey! Phil!” Maggie shouts to the door man. “These two get in for free! They’re my guests,” she shouts loudly for everyone to hear, as Roman takes a drag of the cigarette.

“Will see you inside,” Maggie smiles, before picking up the train of her dress, revealing what has to be six-inch sparkly heels and heads inside.

“Fuck, she’s a character. Beautiful though,” Gerri laughs, moving closer to him as he takes another draw. “How do you know her or him? I’m sorry, I’ve never met a drag queen. What do you call them?”

“Her when she’s in drag, but Maggie wouldn’t give a fuck. She was in drag clubs in London years ago when I hung around here. I got her a gig in New York at one point and she just stayed on. She had a partner who was also a drag queen. Jackie. Died of Aids years ago though,” he divulges.

She frowns, biting her lip, “I’m sorry.”

He remains silent, looking around before she makes another bold move.

“Give me a draw,” she smirks, gesturing to his cigarette.

“You don’t smoke,” he laughs, holding it out to her.

“You don’t either,” she chides back, taking the cigarette and inhaling.

“I do sometimes when I drink,” he laughs, watching as she exhales it like some fucking sexy movie star from the 1950s.

“I used to for years. Gave it up. But can’t resist the temptation every now and then. Especially when no one is looking and I have a drink in me,” she smiles, taking another draw before passing it back to him.

“Gerri fucking Kellman. What other little fucking secrets have you got hidden?”

“You’re going to have to stick around to find out,” she smiles, running her hand down his arm and weaving her fingers through his.

Just then a song he recognises comes booming out of the inside as the door swings open.

“Looks like your playlist is on tonight,” he smirks.

“Born to be Alive?” She laughs, as he sways from side to side.

“Yeah. Fucking tune,” he declares, taking a final draw and flicking the cigarette across the street as she strains listening to it.

“Come on. Let’s go in. She’ll go crazy if we miss her act,” he says, pulling her hand into the pub, moving down the flight of stairs, trying to avoid the drunken people lingering there, as he keeps her close behind him.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” he shouts to her as they enter the mobbed room, pushing his way to the bar as she follows, looking at all the people around them.

_She’s surprised to see people of all ages, sexes, fashions; it’s so diverse. Some couples are straight, some gay. It’s not what she had expected at all._

He pulls her closer when he gets to the bar, allowing her to lean against it as he stands protectively behind her.

“What do you want?” He shouts in her ear, as she removes her hat, putting it in her pocket.

“Whatever you think,” she shrugs, the bar on a level above, allowing her to look down at all the people dancing like crazy to the disco song on the large dancefloor in front of the stage.

_Who knew people still loved this kind of music?_

She takes the drink off him when he taps her shoulder, as he takes her hand again, leading her to a pillar in the middle of the dancefloor for her to stand against, a perfect view of the stage.

The song changes, another classic belting out.

“Oh my god! I love this song!” He shouts to her excitedly.

“Daddy Cool?” She laughs.

“Yeah. Fucking love Boney M. Have you seen their music videos? The crazy fucking guy just dancing around like an idiot.” He laughs, beginning to dance from side to side in front of her as she remains still laughing at him.

“Yeah. Did you know that that’s not the guy singing? He’s just lip syncing. It was the guy who was their manager or something who actually was on the track. The dancing guy is just there as a prop,” she tells him as he watches her in awe.

“How do you know all these weird facts?”

“You pick things up through the years,” she shrugs.

He decides to tease her, dancing a little around her, smirking, as she watches with a smile, shaking her head, when he spins on the spot, pointing at her when the chorus comes along. The most she gives him is a small sway of her hips, a bobbing of her head from side to side as she takes a sip of her drink.

_She feels too old to be indulging in this. Forty years ago, she would have been in the middle of the dancefloor, contorting her whole body into a series of dance moves not having a care in the world. Now though, she feels embarrassed at the thought of anyone seeing her do so. It’s been so long and she’s out of practice._

He comes up closer to her, wraps his arm around her waist under her coat, kisses her neck as she smiles, moving her neck into him, her hand clutching her glass around his back, whilst he sings the song into her neck, his hips moving in rhythm against her. She closes her eyes, getting lost in the rhythm with him, the dance floor huge and dark, the pillar firm against her back, as he’s firm against her front so she feels completely secure.

_No one would notice them, she reasons. Everyone was probably too drunk even if they did. It could be easily denied._

He pulls away from her neck, moving his forehead to hers, kissing her quickly.

“She’s crazy like a fool,” he sings along, pulling back a little, aiming the line at her, waiting for her to fill in the next line with an expectant raise of his eyebrows, his mouth hanging open, though she doesn’t, simply shakes her head, laughing, and looking down at the floor embarrassed then back up to him through her eyelashes.

“I’m crazy like a fool,” he sings again, waiting with raised eyebrows for her to complete it again, challenging her _._

She rolls her eyes, indulging, “wild bout daddy cool,” she completes with an eye roll as she shakes her head again, taking her free hand off his shoulder to cover her eyes.

He laughs, pulling her hand away and kissing her palm before moving his arm further under her coat around her back

“Daddy, daddy cool,” he sings to her, sneaking his hands down to her ass to push her closer to his pelvis, his thigh resting against her centre, so she can move in rhythm with him, whilst she looks back up to him with a flirtatious smile.

“Daddy, daddy cool,” he breathes again, as she responds, moving against him, as her lips dip closer to graze against his, before she indulges fully and kisses him ardently, his hand pushing against her ass so he can press his growing erection further into her thigh as their hips move in tandem.

“All right, all right ladies and gentlemen! I’m back!” They are interrupted at the end of the song by the loud voice of who she now knows is Maggie Snatcher, as she pulls away from him, his eyes heavy with lust as he offers one more peck before turning around and taking a huge swig of his drink.

“Yes, it’s me. The one and only Maggie Snatcher. Back again in my hometown with a new act for you all. In case you couldn’t tell by the dress and the hair, I’m clearly going to be doing some Diana Ross numbers for you, though it won’t all be Diana. I was going to start off with one song, but I have a friend in the audience who I haven’t seen in years who’s here with his boss.”

_Fuck off, no. Fuck._

**Oh, holy fucking shit. She wouldn’t. She fucking wouldn’t.**

He looks around to her panicked, her wide eyes meeting his as he turns back around quickly to look at the stage.

“So,” Maggie continues, “what would usually be my third number, I’m moving up to right fucking now since they are going to be here a limited time only. Here it is, the song immortalised by Diana Ross, well known in Rupaul’s Drag Race by Bebe Zahara Benet, and for one night only dedicated to the chicest woman in the room, I give you, THE BOSS!”

At that the song’s beat starts up with Diana Ross’s humming and singing over the melody, Roman and Gerri sighing in relief, fucking petrified they were about to be fucking outed.

“Don’t be a stranger, you anonymous little devil you!” Maggie shouts over the music, clearly aimed at him, before handing the microphone away, Roman turning around to Gerri, his eyes wide and sighing with relief as he puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.

They watch the performance as Maggie Snatcher begins impersonating Diana Ross impeccably, choosing a young man from the audience halfway through to be her muse, whilst she sits him on a stool, dancing around him and lip syncing the song to him.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he leans into her ear, pulling her a little in front of him. “I’m usually the one who gets pulled up onto the stage to be that guy,” he smiles, whilst she laughs as he wraps his arm around her waist, moving his hips a little to the music as she smiles, joining in with him a little, sipping her drink.

_She loves this song. She had listened to it only last week, thinking of how much she could relate to it right now with this new relationship._

He looks over Gerri’s shoulder, noting her huge grin, singing along to the lyrics a little as she watches Maggie throwing herself around the stage and onto the guy on the stage’s lap. 

When the song is over, the crowd erupts into cheering, Gerri and Roman included as they watch the young man kiss Maggie’s cheek and descend the stage, whilst she holds her hand out for him to also get a round of applause.

“She’s very good,” Gerri leans back, whispering into his ear as she continues clapping against her wrist holding the glass.

“Yeah. She’s old as fuck so she’s had a lot of practice,” he laughs, kissing her cheek and whooping loudly for her. “How does it feel having a song dedicated to you?” He whispers down into her ear again.

“Pretty surreal,” she laughs, placing her hand on his that is resting on her stomach.

The next song starts up, a song she instantly recognises as she watches Maggie dramatically posing on the stage, a red feather boa having appeared around her neck.

_If there’s a cure for this, I don’t want it. I don’t want it._

_If there’s a remedy, I run from it. From it._

“This is one of my favourites,” she turns her head, whispering in his ear before she looks back to the stage grinning, as she watches the drag queen continue to dramatically perform the low tempo part of the song, standing as the beat ramps up.

Gerri can’t help bobbing on the spot a little more vigorously, her grin wide, as Roman looks on completely mesmerised, shocked that she has started to become so much more comfortable that she would openly jig. He simply keeps his hand on her stomach, following her tempo, not wishing to distract her from this dream, not wishing to remind her that they are actually out in public.

They watch as Maggie starts spinning on the spot, jumping around the stage dancing whilst lip-syncing the whole song, incorporating her feather boa and throwing it into the air.

They end up staying for the whole set, Gerri enthusiastically dancing on the spot through the whole thing, the grin never being wiped off her face, and his happiness for her bursting. **He remembers what she had said on the yacht about never being able to lose herself even though she loved the music, too afraid of harming her image. The fact that she’s so carefree just now brings him so much happiness. So glad that he has his own little secret of her just now, though it’s his personal mission to ensure that she could be more carefree. Convince her to loosen up a little in front of certain people. Looking at her right now, she’s so happy, and he wants that for her always.**

She turns around to him beaming when Maggie moves off the stage, her eyes sparkling though he can barely see them, her grin is so wide.

“That was brilliant. She’s so talented,” she shouts close to his ear.

“Yeah. She’s pretty great. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Will need to take you to see her again when we’re back in New York,” he smiles back, pushing her hair behind her ear that had fallen over her face.

He sees her smile drop a little, forcing back up for his benefit as she leans forward to peck his lips.

**He watches as the wall that had been so clearly broke down in the last half hour, building its foundation back up in one small expression.**

_She knows that they would likely not be able to do this in New York any time soon. Too many people to run into. Too much at risk. Though hopefully that would change eventually._

“We should head back. I want to say goodbye first though,” she says taking his hand.

He shakes his head at that, surprised, but he leads the way to the stage, Gerri firm in his hand as another song kicks up and everyone starts dancing vigorously around them.

Finally, he catches hold of Maggie who is also beaming.

“You were great,” he offers, kissing her cheek.

“That was absolutely brilliant. You’re so talented,” Gerri beams, as Maggie takes her hand.

“Thank you so much. You both should come see me when I’m back in New York. Give me your number,” she says, throwing her phone at Roman as he rolls his eyes, typing it in.

“You really didn’t have to dedicate a song to me. It was very sweet though,” Gerri offers, though Maggie waves her off.

“This one’s been through a tough ride, but I caught a glimpse of you from my stage. He seems happy. As do you may I add,” Maggie challenges with knowing smile.

_She didn’t have to say it, but Gerri knows she knows._

Gerri leans close to her ear, “we are. But no one knows.”

She pulls back biting her lip as Maggie rolls her eyes, pulling her in closer again.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Maggie whispers before pulling back and patting her shoulder as Gerri gives her a kind smile, Roman handing the phone back.

****

They are walking past Trafalgar square, the grin still playing on her lips as she swings his hand, her ears buzzing from the music.

“I’ve never seen a drag queen or a drag show before,” she divulges as she follows his lead down another street.

“I used to go to them all the time. First when I was in London, then every now and then in New York,” he reveals.

“Really? I never really thought you as the type,” she bites her lip, the cold air cooling her warm cheeks.

“Yeah, they are a good bunch of people. For the most part,” he smiles.

“What got you into it?”

“Uhm…” he pauses, trying to think back “When I was like 14 or 15, I watched the Birdcage. You ever seen it?”

She shakes her head, “never heard of it.”

“We should watch it, if you liked that performance. One of my favourite movies. It’s like Robin Williams and Nathan Lane are a couple, and Robin Williams has a son from a previous relationship who wants to get married to this rich girl, whose dad is a Republican senator. Gene Hackman. And his wife is Dianne Wiest. Usual prissy family. So, they want to come and meet the family, but they need to pretend not to be a gay couple so the other family will approve. I don’t know if I’m explaining this right,” he scrunches his face up looking at her grimacing.

“No, I’m following,” she smiles encouragingly as they continue walking.

“Okay. Well it’s funny. But Nathan Lane in it, is the main drag queen of the gay club they own downstairs. But the end of it is like this big _We are Family_ drag number. It makes more sense when you see it, but it was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. I just thought it was so fun. Like all these really fun, eccentric people who felt like they just wanted to live their life in Miami being gay and whatever and they loved their life, but they felt pressured to change for other people because it didn’t fit into societies expectations. When they were actually so funny and a lot of fun. Not long after that I wandered into a drag club in London with friends one night because I wanted to see what it was all about and I loved it. And that’s what it’s like for so many of that community. Like people for years, just degrading them and telling them they were weird and should conform when they were some of the coolest people I had ever met. I could just relate to having to like, well, like being forced to conform."

"I can see why you would resonate with that."

"Yeah. There was a lot of older queens in the community who tried to take me under their wing. Tried to help me. I was too fucked up at the time to appreciate it. On too many drugs, travelling around the world partying. They couldn't do anything to stop me. That time I almost OD'd when I was younger? Maggie was there. Called an ambulance and came to the hospital with me. Stayed with me until mom's housekeeper showed up. She was there through a lot. Encouraged me to come off the drugs because I was wasting it all away. Especially after what happened to Jackie. Showed me I was kind of ruining my life. I started trying in Waystar after that, just before I was shipped out to California. Was still clueless though," he shrugs. 'The community was great though. Bitchy at times but they always tried to support each other. They always thought I was gay. I mean I look the type. I can be very flamboyant but,” he shrugs.

“Have you ever dabbled in that?” She asks curiously.

“Yeah,” he tells her shyly.

“So, are you bisexual or?”

“I don’t know, Gerri. I didn’t understand it all, still don’t. You know, I couldn’t really have sex with anyone properly. It was really confusing. I couldn’t really have sex with women really, so I thought maybe I like men? Then I realised I wasn’t really attracted to anyone when I looked at them? So, then I thought I might have been asexual? But I knew I could like perform in certain situations, so maybe not that. I didn’t think there was a name for it? I tried to look it up and I read this thing about being a Pansexual? It’s like you are capable of being attracted to literally anyone. Man, woman, transexual, you know? Doesn’t matter what their biological sex, gender, or gender identity is. But then I remembered what you said about maybe only having a sexual attraction to someone I like emotionally love? So, google suggested that might be Demisexual? Bottom line is that I don’t fucking know but the reality is that I don’t think I really need to fucking know. Don’t need to label it. I just go with the flow now. Does that bother you?” He asks her nervously as they walk up the huge street.

“No, not at all. It doesn’t need a name, does it?”

“I know that I’m attracted to you. That I want you. In all ways,” he smirks at her, swinging her hand and squeezing it.

“Well I’m glad of that,” she smiles.

“You’re not weirded out by it? That I’ve been with guys?” He asks her worriedly.

“Why would that weird me out? It’s no different to the thought of you with women.”

“I don’t know. Some people are weird about it. Afraid I could run off with a guy. I don’t know,” he shrugs.

“No different to the idea of you running off with a women,” she shrugs back with a smile.

“Yeah, but like, the sex as well. Like with a guy,” he pushes awkwardly.

She huffs, smiling at him. “What you mean like hand jobs, blow jobs, anal?” She laughs

**Holy shit. He never thought in his whole life would he hear Gerri saying anal. The temptation to laugh is fucking strong.**

“You could do all that with a woman. Who gives a shit if it’s a guy? It’s not really something I think about. I had sex with a woman before I met Baird,” she shrugs.

“Fuck off. You didn’t.”

“I did. Before I went off to college. Went to a random party, got drunk, and it just happened. Was nothing to write home about,” she shrugs.

“I mean there is something hot about that, but also at the same time, the thought of anyone with you makes me want to hurl,” he smiles, lifting the back of her hand to his lips.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” She stops, laughing, noting that they are in the middle of a huge fucking street.

“Are you fucking serious? Get your prescription checked. Look ahead,” he laughs, pointing to the bottom of the street.

“Buckingham palace?” She asks.

“Yeah. Why not?” He shrugs. “Thought we could break in and try for a foursome with Charles and Camilla.”

“Thought you couldn’t stand the thought of me with anyone else,” she flirts, sidling up to him, her body pressed into his side as he wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I want you all to myself. Forever and ever,” he whispers against her lips as he kisses her softly.

She hums against his lips as she leans into his kiss.

“Then why don’t you take me back to the hotel and show me?”

“Because I don’t want tonight to end,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I know, baby,” she soothes, bringing her hand up to stroke his cheek. “I don’t either.”

“No. I like really, really don’t,” he almost whines, tightening his arms around her shoulders, as her free hand makes its way under his coat to stroke his lower back. “I don’t want to go back to the way it was.”

“I know. It won’t be for long,” she tells him softly, the pad of her thumb stroking across his stubble, as she inhales the remnants of his aftershave.

“I can’t, Gerri. Now I have you like this, I can’t let you go. I just can’t,” he tells her desperately, kissing her soundly as she deepens it, pouring all the emotion she is mirroring into it until she pulls back slightly.

“This has been one of best nights of my entire life. I want it again as soon as possible on a constant basis. You never have to let me go, honey. I’m not going anywhere. We just can’t do it as much as we want to until it’s public. That’s all.”

He sighs, “run away with me. Let’s just go.”

She smiles, though she’s pretty sure he’s only half joking.

_She knows that if she said yes right now, he would._

“Where would we go?”

“I don’t care.”

“How about we plan a vacation? We can go away somewhere. As soon as the shit with your dad is over and we can go public, we will just fuck off somewhere for a week? It will give us something to look forward to,” she suggests gently.

“That would be cool,” he smiles.

“And we’re going to Hawaii day after tomorrow as well. Maybe we can see if they have adjoining rooms again,” she touches the side of his lips, trying to encourage a further smile.

“Fuck. How am I going to not touch you when you’re in a bathing suit in a tropical paradise?”

“For each day you don’t touch me in Hawaii, I will make it double worth your while that night in bed,” she murmurs seductively, trailing kisses along his jaw.

“Fuck Gerri,” he whispers.

“You think you’re up to the challenge?” She asks breathily sucking his pulse point.

“Yeah,” he breathes back.

“And tomorrow night I will save you a dance. We also still have tomorrow night together when we come back from the charity ball as well. It’s not over quite yet,” she pulls back smiling.

“Yeah. That’s a point,” his lips twitch.

“Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel,” she smiles, tugging his hand.

****

It doesn’t take them long to get back to the hotel, Buckingham Palace only being on the other side of Green Park.

He feels sad when he needs to let her go when they are approaching the hotel, when he can’t touch her in the lift after all night of having almost constant contact with her.

**She’s like a drug, an addiction.**

He lets them into the room, agreeing to go get ready for bed in his room and meet in hers in five minutes, whilst she does the same.

When he walks in, she’s still in her en suite. He settles into her bed, lying down, and looking up to the ceiling thinking.

“Here,” she says, getting his attention, throwing the woollen hat at him, it landing on his face, as she laughs.

“Keep it. Looks better on you,” he smiles, pulling it off and placing it on his chest, as he looks up to her. She looks so fucking provocative. Her hair tied up, donning a black nightshirt with white piping, not a fucking button done up, revealing the flesh between her breasts, of her stomach, of her centre with absolutely no underwear on.

“Gerri fucking Kellman. Are you trying to seduce me?” He groans.

She stops, looking down to her clothing and then back up to him.

“Well, we’re going to have sex, aren’t we?”

“Fucking hope so,” he smirks.

“What’s the point in fastening the buttons when you’re just going to undo them?” She asks plainly as she turns off her bedside lamp, then pulls back the covers, getting into the bed and laying back on the pillows, as he turns onto his side towards her.

“So practical,” he whispers, trailing his hand up her stomach to between her breasts.

“Are you going to turn off your lamp?” She asks, her breath hitching as she moves her hand to his bicep.

“No,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss her chest. “I want to see you.”

She hums, her eyes fluttering closed as her hand meets the back of his neck, encouraging him forcefully into her flesh as he pulls back the nightshirt to expose her further.

He moves his kisses up to her neck as his leg moves between her thighs, his hand trailing to the flesh of her side, caressing lightly like he knows drives her crazy.

He captures her lips, lovingly exploring her mouth as he hears her soft moans in response, her hands trailing down his sides to pull his t-shirt up.

He breaks away from her lips, breathing raggedly as he kneels before her, pulling the t-shirt up over his head, throwing to the side. He leans back down, hovering, about to go back to where he was before when he is halted as she places her hands on his pecks, slowly, sensually caressing down his chest as she watches her hands, her nails slightly grazing after the pads of her fingers soothe, he watching the concentration in her face until her sparkling blue eyes meet his, her breathing deep.

The intensity between them is severe, the pulsing through her body matching the overwhelming feeling in his chest.

“Tell me what you want, babe,” he asks her thickly, hovering over her.

“Make love to me,” she breathes, her plump lips parted, inviting him.

**That makes him panic a little, he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t want to disappoint her.**

He leans down, kissing her lips softly, pulling back a little to graze his nose against hers.

“I’m not sure how to,” he whispers.

She smiles sweetly, moving her hand up to his forehead and pushing his hair back.

_He looks so worried, so innocent, yet so willing to please her._

“You’ve been making love to me for months. You just didn’t know you were,” she smiles, pecking his lips, as he moves quickly to deepen it, his thigh pressing hard into her bare centre now as she moans lightly again, her body arching up into him.

“See that feeling,” she whispers when he pulls back, breathing raggedly above her. “That overwhelming feeling in here,” she explains, pressing her hand against his chest. “Do you have it too?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, nodding.

“That’s love. Affection. Desire. You express that by doing what your body tells you that it wants you to do,” she breathes, pecking his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers against her lips.

“So, right now,” she whispers. “I want to do this,” she explains before pushing her hips up into him, running her hands across his sides, tickling down the sides of them, and leaning up to kiss his neck as she pulls him down onto her, so his full weight crushes her, his moans filling the room.

He sighs into her neck, biting lightly at her collar bone before licking it soothingly.

“How does that feel?” She breathes, as she continues her soft strokes.

“Fucking brilliant.”

“Turn over, baby,” she soothes, pushing him up a little as he turns off of her, lying on his back, whilst she turns over to him, kissing his peck, running her hand down his chest.

“Gerri,” he whispers, as she straddles him, pushing her centre onto his hard on through his boxers, leaning down to suck at his neck, running her hands across his chest, concentrating at his nipples, as his settle on her sides, grazing the side of her breasts.

“Do you like that?” She mumbles against his neck.

“Yeah.”

“This is making love,” she continues kissing down his neck, down to his chest. “I want to run my hands all over your body. Taste you. Smell you. I want to bring you so much pleasure,” she continues kissing and licking across his chest, as her fingers ghost against his sides. “And I want you to want me so much you can hardly stand it,” she informs him, her voice husky as she moves up to hover over his face, their breath mingling.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he breathes, reaching up to kiss her.

“Show me,” she breathes, as he kisses her hard, exploring her mouth slowly as he sits up, taking her with him, pushing her nightshirt off her shoulders desperately, touching her breasts and moving his kisses down to her collar bone when he has.

“Fuck,” she whispers as he kneads her breast, his other hand moving down her spine to cup her ass, pushing her further into him.

“You’re fucking everything,” he bites at her neck, a moan escaping her lips as she pulls him back up to her mouth, not wanting him to leave a mark on her.

She moves her hand between them, cupping him through his shorts, moving her hand against him to encourage him on, enticing a sigh into her mouth as she dominates her tongue over his, though he puts up a pretty impressive fight.

“Gerri,” he says moving his hand on top of hers and pushing it away from his crotch. “I won’t last,” he says as he moves his hand to her centre, pushing against her clit. Her head falls back as she sits on his thighs, her legs spreading wider against him, his mouth finding her neck again, trailing down to capture her nipple as he moves between sucking and biting. She pushes her chest up into him, her hand encouraging him on the back of his head, her body tingling all over, feeling herself already near falling over the edge.

She gasps loudly when he enters two fingers into her, his thumb still circling her clit hard.

“God, Roman. Yes, baby,” she moans, her eyes closed, her hips involuntarily moving with him, as his mouth trails back up to her neck again, so she can pull him closer to her, so they are skin to skin.

“Right there, baby. Just curl them a bit,” she instructs him, as he watches her face, her mouth lying open, her eyebrows consistently changing from a frown to surprised pleasure.

“Yes, Roman,” she gasps as she finally feels he’s hit the spot. “Keep going,” she instructs him desperately as his pace speeds up, his breathing matching hers as he watches in awe when she falls over the edge with a scream, her whole body convulsing, his fingers being washed with a sticky substance, her insides contracting around his fingers.

She kisses him hard, moaning into the kiss, as he waits until she starts coming down from her peak. She sighs against him, a pressure still built up in her lower half.

“Inside me,” she whispers. “I need you inside me.”

He doesn’t need telling twice, when he pulls out of her, helping her off his crotch, his dick already straining to come home. She’s on her back, with him pulled on top of her as they kiss passionately; she pushing down his shorts, her feet catching them to push them down the rest of the way, as he pushes up between her, her legs spreading wider for him.

He kisses down her neck, his hands grazing her breasts again as his mouth starts to follow, but she can’t take it, the intensity is already too much.

“No, I need you now. I can’t take it. Right now. Please,” she moans.

**He doesn’t think there is anything more fucking thrilling than her begging for him.**

He nods, moving his mouth back up to her, pecking her lips.

“Are you ready? Do you need me to,” she mumbles against his mouth, reaching her hand between them to feel him.

“I’m more than ready,” he groans into her mouth as she grabs hold of his dick, steering him inside her.

“Yes,” she growls as he groans loudly, pulling away from her mouth and resting his lips on her shoulder whilst he tries to breathe.

He moves slowly within her, trying to hold back, create a delicious build up. She’s straining below him, moving in tandem with him, her bent legs hovering next to his thighs to change the angle, her hand on his hips encouraging him on.

“Can you feel how much I want you now?” He breathes against her ear.

“Yes,” she hisses as he bucks hard into her, a gasp escaping her lungs.

“Fuck, I love you,” he groans as he bites under her ear, unable to control the speeding up of his hips as he sensually drives into her, moans escaping her lips becoming louder as he moves his mouth to cover and silence them.

“Rome,” she groans as their rhythm reaches its peak, the tell-tale signs of his wincing expression telling her that he’s not far off.

“That’s it. Keep going,” she pulls away from his mouth. “Give it to me. Harder.”

He groans, pushing up away from her to renew his vigour, pounding into her as he hovers over her body, whilst she clutches his forearms.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes,” she shouts as she falls over the edge, he finally able to release into her with a growl, falling on top of her as he spills into her, her legs wrapping around his thighs, her hand finding his hair as she continues to contract around him.

“Fuck. You’re fucking brilliant,” he mumbles into her shoulder, his body still jerking inside her. “How the fuck do you do it?”

“We did it together,” she whispers, exhausted, twisting her head to kiss his temple as she lies there completely spent.

“No. You’re the fucking ringmaster, the mistress of ceremonies, the tamer of my body, man. You make it do shit, feel shit, I never knew it could,” he pants, grazing his fingers against the side of her breast.

“We’ve been making love for a long time, you just didn’t know you were doing it,” she says with ragged breath.

“How is it so fucking perfect, Gerri?” He leans up asking her seriously, taking in her blue eyes, her golden hair, her wrinkled nose as she smiles back, stroking his sweaty hair away from his face.

“Because I love you, Rome,” she smiles simply, kissing him softly. “And you love me.”

“You’re so perfect,” he kisses her languidly.

“I’m not perfect. Maybe perfect for you, just as you are for me,” she tells him when she pulls back from his kiss, pecking again, before he deepens it, pushing her deeper into the pillows.

_Yes. This. All of this. Forever and ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okey so second chapter on my birthday lads.
> 
> Several notes:
> 
> 1\. Yes, Gerri fucking Kellman smoked a cigarette. Absolutely inspired by me seeing a picture of J. Smith Cameron smoking a cigarette on Arian Moayed's instagram yesterday. Blew my damn mind.  
> 2\. Songs were Born to be Alive by Patrick Hernandez, Daddy Cool by Boney M, The Boss by Diana Ross, and Love Hangover by Diana Ross. Because I still believe that like me, Gerri Kellman is a disco queen and I will not be deterred and because my Disco playlist has been playing all day to cheer me up.  
> 3\. Roman in the drag community. This is a thought that I thought would be so apt. He is very flamboyant, some fans always thinking he was gay. Whereas I had the theory that he was just a bit camp, didn't and still doesn't really understand his own sexuality, but enjoyed the kind of art, humour, and dramatics that drag and LGBT culture often involves. Then the idea of him resonating with so many in LGBTQIA community who then and even now can often feel a little lost when they don't have a supportive family or community. Like they don't fit in before they find their people and are forced to conform until they finally find it. (Perfect example of this being Ryan Murphy's Pose). I liked the idea that Roman kind of resonates with that. That he never really feels like he fit in with his family, siblings, community. That in his younger days he might have tried to find his people, needing a drag mother to take him under their wing, but him being too fucked up to accept it, pushing them away because he won't allow himself to get too close to anyone. Then bucking up his ideas when he hits rock bottom, trying to focus on Waystar and working hard, though not mature enough to fulfil that. Trying to become more vanilla and conforming to the corporate world around him. It's just a theory, but one that I feel like ticks a lot of boxes.


	13. Scenes from a Charity Ball

He’d felt a little shitty today.

The transition had been a bit too much to bear and he didn’t think he had even hid his sulking well. If she felt the same, she had definitely hidden it well; but he would expect nothing less from her.

They had been woken early by her alarm, exhausted from the few hours’ sleep they had gotten. He stayed in the bed, unsuccessfully encouraging her to stay with him, unable to coax her into a morning rendezvous, but watching her in her morning routine had been something even more intimate. Just her keeping the en suite door ajar as she had showered, brushed her teeth, fixed her hair, had felt like a whole new step in their relationship. He had been tempted to join her in the shower, but he refrained for fear she would kick him out as she continued the routine. He had crawled to the bottom of the bed, lying on his stomach so he could watch her. The procedural use of the electric toothbrush she had; moving in circle motions from one side of her mouth right around to the other side, baring her teeth at the end before flossing.

She had started to talk to him after that, rhyming off her projections for Dana as he had caught the special soap she had procured from her wash bag and how she had delicately washed her face with it, dabbing her face dry instead of rubbing it; then walking around the room in her towel as she had continued talking whilst picking out her outfit for the day.

He was fascinated, throwing his shitty two cents in every so often because he was too mesmerised by watching her.

**This could be his life. Waking up like this every morning. Watching Gerri walk around in a towel as she uses him as a sounding board. What a perfect way it would be to start every day. Maybe more perfect if he could hear her moaning his name as a preamble would be a little more perfect, but even without that, it would be bliss. He thinks back to his shitty proposal in Dundee. His attempt to secure her, to try and express how he had felt. He felt like blurting out another proposal again, feels it would be different this time. Not to secure her; but so he could secure how he feels right now in this completely perfect morning. He knows she wouldn’t go for it; knows that they can’t even hold hands in public so what was the likelihood of her being okay with evidence of this relationship on a registered wedding certificate. But he knows that as soon as they go public it’s going to eat at him again. Knows that he won’t be content until he fully belongs to her.**

His sadness had begun to develop when they had breakfast in the dining room though. No longer able to hold her hand, caress her skin, throw her a flirtatious glance, lean over and peck her lips just because he felt like it. It made him angry at Jonathan and Dana just for being mere spectators. He finds himself remaining silent, even Jonathan wearing a wary expression, aware that Roman was definitely off without his incessant jibing. In the few times he does speak he knows he’s coming across like a brat; moving between nonchalant and snappy, earning a few pointed looks from Gerri who attentively listens to Dana’s enthusiastic findings from her readings on the company when she had remained in last night. He finds himself softening a little towards Dana when he realises that without her conscientiousness, he never would have even been awarded last night.

He remains uncharacteristically silent at the office also, allowing Gerri to take the lead again, Dana much more expressive with her thoughts today with all the senior management. Her new confidence is completely welcome for him because it means he doesn’t have to do much; no requirement to pretend to be excitable when he isn’t feeling it. He’s fucked off at everyone around him. All of them a fucking barrier to him being the person he wants to be. They are all fucking blockades to him being able to express all of the feelings that are currently swirling around within him that he wants to act upon.

He tries not to look at Gerri. Her hard expression too much too handle right now, as if last night had never happened. He tries not to remember her soft face without her glasses, surrounded by his cream woollen beanie. Tries not to remember her excitable expression when he had pointed out Yates’ former abode. Tries not to remember her worried intake of breath when she thought the movie was turning scary. Tries not to remember the grin on her lips and the cute lines around her eyes when she had left the drag club elated. He enjoys watching queen bitch Gerri as well. It’s hot. Always has been, but he misses his Gerri. Secret Gerri; though there is still something about his Gerri being for his eyes only that makes him smile.

He looks up to her after lunch to see her offer a small smirk, her eyes glistening at his sweet smile as he thinks of her. He perks up after that. Just that small glance of his Gerri reminds him that she’s still in there, that this is just serious work Gerri that is the other part of her; that he should be doing the fucking same. He brightens up, asking more questions, cracking more jokes, being more supportive towards Dana who he had been a bit of a dick towards particularly at breakfast this morning. The buzz becomes greater, the repertoire better as the senior staff allow themselves to express their excitement for the charity ball tonight.

****

“What was wrong with you today?” She asks him later as he hangs upside down over the edge of her bed whilst she leans against the doorway of the en suite in her robe, blowing the wet nail polish in front of her mouth.

“Meh,” he shrugs, the blood flowing to his head distracting too much for him to give a proper answer.

She rolls her eyes, continuing to hold her hands delicately in front of her as she sits on the edge of the bed next to him, crossing her legs, exposing her skin, her knee almost grazing his cheek.

“Uhu,” she offers, completely unbelieving him.

He huffs, sitting up slightly to lay his head in her lap, his mouth pressed into her lower stomach as he wraps his arms around her hips. She moves her hand to his head, smiling until she looks at her dark red nails, moving the heel of her hand to gently stroke the back of his head, trying to keep her wet nails untouched.

“What’s up, pup?” She asks softly.

His response is muffled until she interrupts him with a gentle, “can’t hear you, Rome.”

He moves his head back to face up to her as she looks down to him smiling, moving the heel of her hand to try move his hair away from his eyes.

“Missed you. Missed the freedom of last night,” he huffs, hooking his hand under her belt at the small of her back and running his finger along from one hip to another.

“I know, Rome. But you need to be professional. You can’t go into a mood in a workplace because you can’t get what you want when you want it,” she licks her lips lightly and purses them, touching her nail to test touch, confirming their dryness.

He curls his lip, groaning.

“I know,” he whines. “I couldn’t help it,” he says burying his head back into her stomach. 

“It’s hard, I know,” she offers, trying to be soft, fully threading her fingers through his hair now.

“You didn’t find it hard,” he groans loudly so she can make him out.

“How do you know what I found hard or not?” She challenges with a laugh, pulling back a little.

“Are you kidding? Gerri stone faced Kellman,” he rolls his eyes at her when he meets her eyes.

“Just because I have a good poker face, doesn’t mean I don’t feel differently inside,” she smiles, stroking the palm of her hand delicately across his cheek.

“Really? You struggled?”

“Rome, I’m not a schoolgirl. I am able to control myself. I didn’t struggle, but I missed it, yeah. But just like I’ve told you before, there’s a time and a place,” she leans down, pecking his lips, which he attempts to deepen before she pulls back quickly.

“Now get off me and go get ready. We’re supposed to leave in half an hour and I still need to finish my make up and put my contacts in,” she orders tapping his shoulder.

He groans, rolling off her.

“Why do we even need to go to this stupid fucking thing?” He moans as she stands rechecking her nails, waving her hands in the air as she walks towards the desk with her makeup splayed out.

“Because it’s the whole fucking reason we came here. It’s a good opportunity for networking, and it’s the charity associated with the airline,” she rhymes off as he pulls a disgusted face with his tongue out as he starfishes on her bed.

“What even is the stupid charity? Old people or something, right?”

“Alzheimer’s UK.”

“Meh. Same thing,” he shrugs.

“I’m so glad that you’ve done your research. I have so much confidence in how tonight is going to go,” she turns around looking at him, shaking her head with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

“I will network the fuck out of tonight. Just you wait,” he boasts, waving her off.

“Get up and get ready,” she orders again, as he groans sitting up and bouncing off the bed. “And look up the fucking charity for fuck sake.”

“Don’t forget you owe me a dance,” he shouts over his shoulder as he walks through the adjoining door.

“If you pass the pop quiz, I’ll consider it,” she shouts back as she shakes her head at her reflection.

****

She had shouted him to help zip up her dress and he had been pretty floored when he seen her.

**He feels like this is the fucking soppy fucking rom com shit he fucking hates. The fucking imagery of how fucking stunning she looks; the fucking Jack at the bottom of the stairway in Titanic shit that usually makes him dry heave. The shit that makes him offer an imagined and literal jerk off sign whenever it’s even mentioned or visible. But she looks fucking hot. So hot he feels his dick stirring just at that colour against her skin, the line of her spine exposed to him as she waits for him to zip her up.**

Her hair was all pinned up, her glasses gone, with this like dark reddy blackish floaty dress. He had gone up behind her to zip it up as she leaned against the desk, trying to step into a pair of high heels, bringing her up to his height. He had noted that her shoulders were bare, allowing him to peck up to her neck as she giggled, trying to bat him away.

“What is this shit?” he asks running his hand down the skirt at the back of her dress. “Is it like a fishing net?”

“It’s fucking chiffon,” she looks over her shoulder at him, squinting as she puts in a black earring. “Don’t you like it?” She asks perhaps a little self-consciously he notes.

“You kidding? You look hot,” he declares, looking her up and down with a smirk.

She smiles, rolling her eyes, grabbing the other earring.

“Well, as long as I look hot. That’s the main thing,” she offers sarcastically, pushing the earring in and walking over to the long mirror. “You don’t think I’ll clash with the red carpet?” She asks looking worriedly at her dress as she strokes the skirt. “I’ve never done a red carpet before. Was never important enough to. I always got to skip it. Don’t think I will get away with that this time,” she looks up to his face, worried.

“There is no way you should skip it. Bitches should see how fucking fierce you look right now. And there’s nothing to worry about. I’ve done a ton of them. You just smile until they thank you, that’s your cue to fuck off. I’ll be right there with you,” he smiles.

“So, you _don’t_ think I will clash with the carpet?” She repeats, pursing her lips, looking at the dress again.

“No. Seriously, Gerri. You look fucking beautiful,” he offers seriously, catching her reflection in the mirror as she smiles kindly.

“You’re looking pretty handsome yourself,” she offers with a smile, turning around to him, picking a piece of lint off of his shoulder, straightening up his bow tie.

“Dapper enough?” He poses showing her his profile, grasping his lapels to pose for her, before he sneaks his hands on her hips.

“Very suave,” she smiles, running her hands down his lapels.

“So, are you ready then?” He chokes out as she stares into his eyes lustfully.

“Was just waiting to put on my lipstick,” she whispers, leaning in closer.

“For what?”

“This,” she breathes as she kisses him soundly, his arms wrapping tighter around her waist as she runs her hands up to his neck, deepening the kiss.

She pulls back after a minute, smiling as he looks at her dazed.

“That’s to keep you going until later. Remember you need to behave,” she raises a warning eyebrow.

“Always do,” he smirks, smacking her ass before backing away quickly.

“You’re going to pay for that,” she threatens, pointing at him as he continues to back away with a smirk.

“I’ll go see if Dana is ready. Get you in living room, Gerri, Gerri quite contrary,” he sings as he walks towards the adjoining door.

“Don’t start with that!” She shouts over her shoulder as she sits at the table, picking up her lipstick.

“You not like it? How about Gerri berry. Merry Gerri. Gerri cherry!”

She watches him in the reflection, her jaw clenched, her mouth hanging open, her eyes squinting, as though plotting all the ways to possibly gag him.

“Roman,” she warns in the reflection as he continues grinning.

“Scary Gerri. Wary Gerri! Airy Gerri!”

She turns around and looks at him pointedly.

“Ok,” he rolls his eyes. “Glary Gerri,” she hears him whisper as she tries to think of anything that rhymes with his name.

“Fuck off, omen Roman,” she shouts back, smiling.

“Ha ha! Good one!” She hears him shout from his room as she looks into her mirror, grinning, taking the cap off her lipstick.

****

When they pull up to venue, he resists the urge to take her hand when he hears her sigh exasperated, looking out the window at the flashing cameras, the long red carpet donning the ground. He was squeezed between Gerri and Dana in the back of the car and he could feel the anxiety radiating from them both. Neither of them was used to this; he was going to have to be the ham who drew all the attention to help calm them.

He had offered a series of compliments to both of them when they had both shown up in the living room, joking about how he would be both of their dates for the night, a Waystar thruple, and how he would be the envy of every man there. Dana had looked really pretty in a floor length black dress, but she was nothing compared to Gerri. He had made a fuss over her all the same though.

Both of them take an arm when he leaves the car, following his lead as an array of people look on.

“Do I look like 50 cent?” He asks Dana with a smile as they slowly walk up the carpet, waiting their turn to be photographed.

“More like Austin powers,” she laughs.

“More like 5 cents,” Gerri offers with a smirk, as Dana laughs at the quip.

“How do you even know who 50 cent is?” He asks her with a huff.

“Best friends. Was in one of his music videos,” she offers.

“Fuck off. No, you weren’t,” he refutes, though he looks sceptical.

“Of course, I fucking wasn’t, but I don’t live under a rock you little shit,” she laughs as they take another step towards the photographers.

It’s finally their turn and as Gerri leads the way nervously with Roman following behind her, Graeme shouts for Dana’s attention, walking up the side of the queue, waving at her.

“Dana, come on,” Roman shouts as she holds up two fingers, talking to Graeme.

“Looks like it’s me and you, kid,” he whispers as she puts her hand on the crook of his arm, smiling at the cameras as they rapidly click and flash before them.

He can feel her vice grip on his arm, tries to think of a way to help her feel a little more comfortable.

“Get my good side, boys,” he shouts at the photographers, turning his head slightly to the right, giving his best smouldering look, as she smiles wider, shaking her head, turning her attention back to the cameras, her grip on his arm loosening a little, her hidden thumb stroking at his elbow.

“Sorry,” Dana whispers as she shuffles over to them, whilst he holds out his arm to her. She takes his other arm as he poses with them both on his arm.

They are welcomed into the Old Billingsgate with a champagne reception, immediately strategizing and identifying the people who they need to target and make conversation with. Dana spends most of her time getting acquainted with upper management whilst Roman and Gerri try and identify the big cheese people in the room they recognise whom they need to target this evening.

They make their way next to the silent auction table, well aware that they need to bid on something. Gerri not seeing anything of interest, though she bids on a vacation she will never go on just to show face, whilst Roman bids on VIP Elton John tickets that he would never go see – would make a hilarious Christmas gift for his mom if he won though since she couldn’t stand him after their feud in ’98.

They reconvene with Dana, making their way to one of the two Ace Airlines tables were all senior executives are settling, when she sees him across the room.

Her eyes go wide when she is seated, as she grips Roman’s arm to get his attention.

“Ouch! Fuck Gerri,” he whines, grasping his arm to remove her grip, looking up to her face as if she was fucking crazy.

“Look,” she grits, looking across the room, as he follows her eye line, his jaw clenching and his eyes seething.

There across the room is the Duke of Bent himself, fucking Edwin, with a pretty looking young girl on his arm.

**He’s pretty sure he recognises the girl. Thinks she might be a model that he met in Milan a few years ago.**

“That fucker,” he blasts, trying to get up from his seat abruptly before Gerri grabs his arm, pulling him back down onto the seat.

“Roman,” she warns abruptly, her nails biting into his arm as he looks around to her wildly. “Don’t cause a scene.”

“But Gerri, he –,” he begins whining.

“Shush,” she orders, looking at the people around the table, smiling awkwardly.

He puffs angrily, slamming back against the chair, before leaning over to her, his lips near her ear, as he watches Edwin across the room shaking hands, laughing loudly with people at another table before they all sit down

“You can’t expect me to just fucking sit here when that cunt is prancing around like a fucking celebrity, wanking off all the other fucking losers here,” he whispers franticly in her ear.

She turns around and looks at him seriously, her tone matching it, “that is exactly what I expect you to do. I don’t want anyone knowing about this and I don’t want a scene. Am I being clear?” She finishes, raising her eyebrows at him challengingly.

“Fine,” he grits, narrowing his eyebrows. “But if he does anything, I’m going to fucking castrate him.”

She rolls her eyes, looking around to Dana on her other side, pulling her chair in further.

He sits seething, staring at Edwin as he watches him wrap his arm around the models bare back, kissing her neck, the girl giggling loudly as he resists the urge to throw up, his scowl not missing Gerri who glances around to him briefly. She runs her hand down to her knee, reaching down to scratch there, before slowly reaching under the tablecloth to his knee, stroking lightly to try and abate him, trying to silently communicate her comfort with the situation. 

_Of course, it was awkward being here with Edwin in the room after what happened. She was stupid to not consider his presence here. If she were honest, the temptation to knock him out was inviting for her too, but she’s a professional and the way to handle these things is to take the high road. The challenge was going to be getting Roman to not do something that was going to make the headlines tomorrow._

He sighs deeply when he feels her hand stroking the inside of his knee, his eyes squeezing shut, trying to breathe through his anger.

**How can he sit in the same room as this fucking reprobate? He deserved to be throat punched and slammed into the wall; his stomach used as a bouncy castle, his eyes used as golf balls, his dick squashed until it’s flat. The ways he’s fantasized destroying this cunt deserve a rolodex and the fact that he can’t even give in is a fucking joke. But it’s Gerri and after being a moody little bitch today, he really had to show her how professional he can be. He can do that. For Gerri. But if Lord Farquaad put a fucking pinkie out of line, he would happily catapult the fucker across the room, clothesline him, bite his calf, poke his eyes out, pull his hair, maybe choke him out. Not that he’s thought about it. He doesn’t know. Will see how he feels if the opportunity presents itself.**

He opens his eyes, looks around to her, watches as she talks casually with Dana, her fingers still tracing his knee.

**He wonders how the fuck she is able to be so fucking chill when he’s so fired up. He wonders how she can be so calm when her hand is being so intimate.**

She finally looks around to him when Dana turns to talk to Graeme, her expression light, the hint of a smile and the quirk of an eyebrow, as she offers a final stroke of his knee, removing it and bringing it up to the table, picking up her glass of champagne to sip.

****

Dinner is slow. He tries to keep his eyes off Edwin as Roman tries to talk to a new guy he’s only seen around the boardroom table in the past two days. Nicholas. He seems okay. He susses out quickly that the guy doesn’t like Edwin. Apparently, Edwin had hit on Nicholas’s wife like a decade ago, but Nicholas hasn’t been able to let it go and Roman can hardly blame him.

It seems that Edwin is besties with the whole fucking charity board. Edwin had chosen this charity when it was in its infancy, specifically because his father had died of Alzheimer’s, which is like kind of nice but like also he hates the guy so he’s not in the mood to fucking empathise. But because of that the charity board fucking love Edwin and likely why he’s fucking here tonight. Fuck this, he wants to go back to the hotel.

Gerri encourages him with a push to start networking with the people they had identified. Some fucking CEO of a studio in London and a French super badillionaire were his two targets, whilst Gerri got all the boring ones. An hour of hobnobbing later, he’s fucking over it. Would rather be back in the hotel room, watching the Crown, lying between Gerri’s legs whilst she strokes his hair, kissing his temple.

He’s been keeping an eye on her, ensuring that Edwin stays the fuck away. She seems to be successful in her finessing, Dana seems to be doing well with the senior management as well.

He watches as Gerri starts pushing her way to the restroom, taking his opportunity, excusing himself with the same excuse as he accosts her at the entrance.

“What’s happening?” He asks her smirking, leaning up against the wall.

“Doing my job. What’s happening with you?” She smiles, diverting her pathway towards him, away from the restroom door.

“Impressing the fuck out of Monsieur Le Bleugh,” he smiles back, resisting every urge in his body not to reach out and touch her hand. **She looks so fucking hot tonight. He wants to how the lipstick feels. Wants to know if its dry, or creamy, or sticky. Wants to know what it looks like when her eyes are closed in ecstasy, her lips lying open as she breathes his name.**

“You mean Claude? Do you ever just call people by their name?” She quirks her eyebrow.

“You mean you don’t like it when I call you the Mistress of Darkness?”

“Only in bed,” she whispers, licking her teeth.

“Don’t Gerri. Fuck,” he sighs, his head leaning back against the wall as his eyes flutter closed. “Can’t we just call it a night. We made an appearance, bid on shit, ate the shitty food, and jerked off the most annoying people. Let’s go back and watch the Crown,” he whispers, leaning in a little closer, his lustful glare telling.

“You still haven’t taken me up on my dance,” she challenges.

“You haven’t offered,” he hits back.

“The lady doesn’t offer. I suggested I would save you one. You need to ask,” she hits over the net again.

“Then come dance with me,” he breathes, trying his best not lean in any closer, allowing his voice to tell her everything she needs to know.

“I need to go to the restroom,” she steps back, playing with him. “Go ask Dana first,” she whispers to him. “It would be a nice gesture. Help her nerves, and will look good to other people,” she quirks, turning around promptly and heading to the restroom.

Dana takes up his offer as he spins her around on the dancefloor, some fucking big band song playing as he catches Gerri enter the room, watching him from the side lines, shaking her head as she joins Graeme who begins chatting to her. He begins dancing with Dana more vigorously, throwing her around the dancefloor as she giggles, offering everyone a good show, missing as Edwin and his new bit joins Gerri and Graeme.

“Edwin,” Graeme smiles, offering his hand out to Edwin, whilst Gerri offers a forced smile, looking over to Roman, noting that he hasn’t noticed, too wrapped up in being a ham.

“Graeme,” Edwin nods towards him. “Gerri,” he nods towards her also. “This is Valentina,” he smiles, rubbing between the shoulder blades of the tall brunette who is pretty fucking stunning if she’s being honest.

“Hello,” Valentina squeaks, offering a small wave to them both. Gerri resists every single fibre of her being that wants to eye roll.

The waiter comes over, offering a martini before she begins tuning out as they continue to chatter, her mind wandering to the couple before her.

_The girl must have been in her late twenties, Edwin easily in his late 60s. Not that she could fucking judge with what she was up to. She really can’t fathom how the fuck Edwin had gone from trying to jump her to this model in front of her. They weren’t in any way related._

“Oh, I love to dance,” she hears the girl squeak again.

“Oh, uhm,” Graeme steps up. “Would you like to dance?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” she squeaks, her arm retracting from Edwin’s back, pecking his lips before she pulls away from him, Graeme leading the way to the dancefloor.

“Would you like to dance?”

“No,” she tells him resolutely, sipping her martini, finally making eye contact with Roman.

Roman had seen Graeme dancing next to him with the model, looking around towards Gerri quickly as he watched her standing coldly with Edwin.

_Fuck._

“Excuse me,” she says looking across at Roman as she turns to walk away, Edwin’s firm hand on her wrist, stopping her and pulling her back.

Roman stops dead, his eyes going wide as he let’s go of Dana’s waist who looks at him confused.

“Get your hand off of me,” Gerri grits, retracting her wrist from his grip, as Roman quietly excuses himself from Dana who slowly follows him.

“You’re not still angry with me?” Edwin asks laughing.

“Are you crazy? How am I supposed to be when someone jumps me after I tell them no. You’re lucky I didn’t press charges or spread it around,” she bites angrily.

“Come on. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill,” he laughs, placing a hand on her upper arm which she retracts angrily again, just as Roman nearly reaches them, Dana close behind.

“I’m not making something out of anything. It was exactly as I said it was. You being a fucking creep when I said no,” she tells him firmly as Edwin rolls his eyes with a smirk.

“You okay?” Roman asks her, a hand on her lower back, as he stares aggressively at Edwin.

“Yeah. Edwin was just leaving,” she looks at Edwin challengingly with a tilted head and raised eyebrows.

“Gerri, don’t you think you’re being a tad dramatic?” Edwin grins, lifting his drink to his lips.

“What the fuck did you say?” Roman hisses, stepping forward in front of Gerri towards Edwin, looking up his tall form.

“Roman,” Gerri warns behind him, placing her hand on his elbow.

“You gave off plenty of signs as well as going on a date with me when you were last here. It wasn’t unwarranted,” Edwin fires at Gerri over Roman’s shoulder.

“I told you I wasn’t interested,” she reiterates for what feels like the millionth time.

“How was I supposed to know you were just being a cock tease,” Edwin shrugs, still smirking.

“Are you fucking serious, dude?” Roman squares up again. “You better fucking apologise.”

“I will do no such thing. That was exactly what she was doing,” he laughs at Roman.

“Look you fucking sex offender,” Roman practically pressed his chest against Edwin’s midriff. “What about no do you not fucking understand, you fucking paedophilic lecherous cocksucker,” Roman almost spits, snarling up at him.

“Roman. He’s not worth it,” she pulls his arm away as he falls back a little, his eyes not leaving Edwin’s. “Come on.”

Edwin begins looking between them, laughing loudly.

“What’s so fucking funny, you cunty motherfucker?” Roman almost shouts, Gerri looking around embarrassed, as Edwin steps up to the challenge walking towards them.

“Really Gerri? This is who’s fulfilling your needs? You could do so much better,” he laughs heartily, as both of their eyes widen.

“How fucking dare you, man,” Roman begins squaring back up, squinting his eyes as Gerri pulls at his arm again.

“Let’s go, Roman,” Gerri encourages.

“No, Gerri. Hold on a fucking second,” he throws over his shoulder to her before looking back to Edwin. “Because I defend a respected female colleague who you attacked and fuck knows what else would have happened if I hadn’t have walked in on it, then I must be fucking her? You’re a fucking disgrace. A tragic embarrassment. A predatorial perverted limp dick fucking –,“ he starts shouting as Gerri grabs him harder this time with both hands, pulling him backwards.

“Rome. Come on. Come on,” she grits dragging him away, as Dana looks on with wide eyes.

“Fucking Viagra taking prick, riddled with STI’s, you corrupt fucking –,” Roman continues as he’s dragged away.

“Roman,” she shouts loudly as he turns around abruptly to face her, seeing her serious expression.

“No, Gerri. He’s a fucking –,” Roman pleads, pointing back to Edwin.

“We’re going for air,” she demands, taking the crook of his arm as she notices Dana for the first time who had witnessed the whole thing. “We’re fine,” she directs towards Dana. “We’ll be right back.”

She takes Roman’s arm until he starts following her through the corridors, out of an emergency exit to the back of a building next to the big fucking dumpsters, the freezing cold air hitting them.

“Cool off,” she orders solidly as he paces around the pavement in a circle, his arms swinging, collecting around his neck, looking up to her and taking in her harsh expression, her crossed arms.

_She doesn’t like this kind of attention. Doesn’t like that anyone who was in hearing distance of that conversation could now get an idea of what had happened. It was one thing having a collected conversation in retort to that fucking imbecile, but a screaming match was not attention she wanted. She is a very private person and she doesn’t like people knowing things like that about her. She doesn’t want to be perceived as weak. She has always been seen as strong. Impenetrable. Unflappable. Dominating. The idea that someone could perceive her as a person who could be overpowered was something she hated more than anything. Especially, when she had had the situation with Edwin under control both when it happened and when she was speaking to him before Roman intervened. She was capable of handling her own issues in a reasonable fashion. Screaming and shouting in a public forum was not her style. However, she knew Roman was angry on her behalf. That she could understand. She can’t say she wouldn’t be the same if it were one of her employees or her daughters, but she needed him to be calm so they could show their faces out there again. This had to be a lesson._

“Don’t look at me like that. He fucking deserved that and more,” he shouts, beginning to pace again, but she remains silent, her face remaining stoic.

“He fucking did,” he reiterates.

“I’m not disagreeing,” she finally offers. “but it was the wrong setting and the wrong time. You should have let it go.”

“Great,” he throws his arms up in the air. “That fucking cocksucker in there insults you and puts his fucking HANDS on you again and I’m the one out of order. Fan-fucking-tastic,” he huffs, still pacing around.

“You’re not in the wrong. It was just unnecessary. It just looks bad. It’s attention we don’t need,” she reasons, rubbing up the sides of her arms as the freezing air consumes her.

“Fuck the attention! Everyone should know what he did!”

“No, because that’s my business. I don’t wash my dirty laundry in public,” she tells him simply as he stops dead, looking at her shocked.

“He put his hands on your, Gerri!” Roman shouts, gesturing back to the door. “I saw you pull away from his grip. Fucking twice!”

“And I appreciated you coming to support me in the possibility it got out of hand, which it only did because you intervened when you didn’t have to. But I don’t need you to fight my battles. I’m a big girl,” she tells him calmly with raised eyebrows.

“He’s lucky I didn’t fucking fly kick him,” he huffs, rubbing his palm against his face as Gerri offers an amused smile.

“We’re all lucky you didn’t fly kick him. I don’t want to spend the evening planning your legal defence for assault,” she offers.

“Would be worth it,” he shrugs, twisting on the spot.

“I would rather spend my night doing other things,” she offers a flirtatious smile.

“Gerri, you can’t talk me into a hard on to stop me being angry,” he looks at her pointedly.

_That shocks her. She usually can talk him into a hard on, no matter what the situation. He must really be angry._

“Look honey. I know you’re annoyed. I know you hate him. I do too, but it’s not worth it. I relish much more in having the complete power and you should too. You have something he will never have,” she smiles, wary of getting near him in case someone should see.

“Dashing good looks, a big dick, and a personality disorder?”

“That and… me,” she smiles as his face softens, returning her smile.

“I want to destroy him,” he groans, crouching in front of her and looking up.

“Then destroy him by spinning me around on the dancefloor one time before we head off. Another thing he will never have. A dance with me,” she smiles again, chancing a stroking of his hair. “Then we’ll go back to the hotel and you can take me to bed. Another thing he’ll never ever have.”

He looks down at the ground, bouncing up and shaking his whole body as if he were about to go twelve rounds with the cunt.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he sighs deeply.

“That’s my Rome,” she smiles, grazing his hand lightly behind her as he follows her inside.

****

Dancing with Gerri in front of everyone had been a treat. Being able to spin her around, his hand on her waist before a bunch of their unaware colleagues had been a thrill, though trying to keep an acceptable distance had been an annoying challenge. However, it was a step in the right direction which made his heart flutter a little. He didn’t think he ever really seen Gerri dance at an occasion, now he thinks of it. Maybe once, with Frank, at Shiv’s wedding. The idea that she had made this allowance for him was electrifying.

He had been able to catch the Valentina girl as Gerri had started saying her goodbyes to some of the people she had been hobnobbing with. He had taken the opportunity to pinpoint that he had met her in Milan, whilst starting the rumour that Edwin had an STD, citing Herpes as the possible incurable one though he could not possibly confirm. Valentina had been astounded, so panicked that he almost felt guilty, but the ability to fuck with Edwin’s reputation as a stallion was too tempting to pass up.

He had much preferred when they had got back to the hotel though.

Being able to push her up against the bedroom door and feel her red lips against his. Pushing the dress off her shoulders to lick her soft ivory skin. Bending down to hike up her layered skirt to push his mouth against her centre as she pushed her back into the door, her distant mewling coming from above him as he rested her thigh over his shoulder. Finally, being able to peel her out of her dress, exploring all of the skin it exposed, berating her over her black Spanx which she insisted were imperative for the dress to seem attractive. The complete lust radiating between them as he had been able to seduce her, take her, bring her all kinds of pleasure whilst chasing his own, had been better than anything. Her soft moans, the taste of her breast in his mouth, the sensuality of her touches, her grip around him as he pushed inside her. It was overwhelming how easy this was between them now; how much he craved her touch and his thirst to be with her in this intimate way. It always surprised him how easily the words ‘I love you’ tumbled from her lips, how forcefully he felt them when he returned the sentiment. Then the touches after they would release. How he would always end up lying spent across her. How her fingers always found their way to his scalp and the nape of his neck. How he always wanted to bury his lips against hers to inhale her scent, fuse their flesh together, weld their need for one another. He wanted her forever. He wanted her to want him forever. He thinks he would die of a broken heart if she ever left him whether by choice or not. Never smile again. Never think a happy thought. Never eat nor sleep, nor want to live. She was everything and he had fallen hard. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells her as he lies in the bed in his boxers, episode three of the Crown ready to play, when she exits the en suite in a night shirt, switching the light off behind her.

“What for?” She asks, throwing back a pill, taking a sip of water as she sets it down on the bedside table.

“For making a scene earlier. I know you were embarrassed,” he acknowledges quietly, as she reaches for her glasses, slipping under the covers as she perches them on her face. “I was just fucking pissed off that he wasn’t getting it. That he was calling you a cock tease.”

“I was embarrassed, but I understand why you got angry because I was too. I just don’t like dramatic public displays. I have witnessed too many of them and they often lack decorum. I find them unnecessary because I prefer to hit people where it hurts quietly,” she soothes, settling back against the pillows as he turns on his side towards her.

“I know, Gerri, but,” he groans, dunking his face into the pillow next to her shoulder, as she watches him silently. “How the fuck am I meant to let someone insult you like that. You don’t fucking deserve that,” he asks angrily as he looks up to her with his huge eyes.

“I know, baby. I know,” she strokes her fingers across the back of his hair, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I’ve been called worse though. It doesn’t do to dwell on it. There is nothing to be gained from that. Sometimes you just have to learn that there are people out there who are more to be pitied. Edwin is more to be pitied. Imagine being a fucking creep who doesn’t understand the simplicity of someone not being interested and not being able to accept that you were in the wrong. Imagine being that obtuse.”

“Am I obtuse?” He asks, frowning, not really understanding her meaning.

“No, honey. I’m pretty sure if a woman told you no, you wouldn’t go any further,” she smiles softly.

“Of course, I wouldn’t. Fuck. But like, I would be hurt. If I really wanted you and you didn’t want me, I would be devastated.”

“Roman, you’re thinking in hindsight. You’re thinking of how you would feel if you wanted me now and I rejected you now. Not if you hardly knew me and made a quick move on me which I declined. You wouldn’t be devastated by that. Surely, you’ve been rebuffed by women in the past?” She asks him, stroking against his ear as he moves over to sidle against her breast, his leg hooking hers, his arm across her stomach. 

“Well yeah. I didn’t fucking care when they did,” he reasons. “But you’re different.”

“Only because you love me now; because we had a connection long before you made a move. But Edwin, he made a quick move and when he got told no, he threw a tantrum. He couldn’t conceive why someone would say no.”

“I would understand why someone would say no to me,” he says thoughtfully, running his fingers down her side absentmindedly.

“I understand why they may have then. You often acted like an asshole. However, you’re all heart. Once you peel back the layers of that façade you’ve been building for so many years, there’s a brilliant person underneath. You need to try and show that more to everyone,” she smiles, looking down to him as she watches him stare across at the wall. “Luckily for you I’m very thorough in all evaluation and analysis before making decisions, so I was the lucky one who found you out.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he whispers, kissing the side of her breast whilst tightening his hold on her.

“You’re very needy tonight, aren’t you?” She laughs, teasing him as she continues stroking his back.

“Uhu,” he muffles as he continues hugging her close. “Don’t you ever get needy?”

“Rarely.”

“Will you come to me if you are? I don’t want this to be one sided, Gerri,” he says firmly, looking up to her as her eyes glint. “I want us to be equal. I support you. You support me.”

“You do support me, Roman. Sometimes just having a sounding board is supportive. Someone to run things by. People need support at different times, in different ways, Rome. Some need support more than others. Some like to lick their own wounds. I am rarely wounded.”

**He feels a little better that he kind of does support by doing literally nothing.**

“But, if you’re wounded, you’ll come to me, right? So, I can try and be there for you. I know I will probably be shit at it. You might need to talk me through it. But you’re always there for me and I want to be your support when you need it too. I have to be, Gerri. I don’t want to be your kid. I want to be your partner.”

“Yeah, Rome. I’ll come to you if the time presents itself,” she strokes his face as he lets out a breath, he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

_The thought warms her. Someone who wants to be there for her if she needs it. She will likely not need it, but the fact that that safety net was there if she did. It feels solid, like the pressure was off her having to always be strong if she didn’t have to be._

“Good,” he settles back into her breast.

“Just don’t go around trying to fight people to defend my honour,” she laughs lightly.

“Fucking asshole. You shouldn’t have held me back. I would have annihilated him,” he tells her confidently.

“I have no doubt, but Roman, I don’t want anything like that to happen again. Remove yourself from the situation if you feel you can’t control yourself. It’s not worth it.”

“Fine,” he whines.

“Now are you going to play this thing or not? It’s getting late and we need to be on the plane first thing.”

He groans, taking his head off her chest, reaching for the remote control and then rolling over onto her so his back was against her chest as she winces in pain.

“Jesus, Roman,” she half groans, half laughs. “A little warning next time,” she tells him as she settles against the pillows with him lying between her legs, her foot hooked over the top of his knee, her hand settled on his bare chest. His hand threads through hers, settling it against his lips and kissing it before encouraging her to wrap it around him so he can nestle his lips against the crook of her elbow as he watches the screen, whilst he presses play on the tv show.

 **This he much preferred.**


End file.
